Identity Crisis
by Angelfirenze
Summary: Her figurative 'grandfather', as it were, was the closest chance she had of finding Timothy Drake, now known as Dr. Gregory House, and that had to be her main focus. Timeline: BtVS, S2-BB/DK-HMD, S2. S3 canonical pairings, excluding Anya.
1. Prologue

**Identity Crisis**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** DC Comics; Heel and Toe; Warner Bros.; Whedon, et al. own all.

**Summary:** Her figurative 'grandfather', as it were, was the closest chance she had of finding Timothy Drake, now known as Dr. Gregory House, and that had to be her main focus.

**Notes:** Written with **marag**'s blessing; I got this idea and had to run with it...

Also, Fibromuscular dysplasia is the logical diagnosis for what happened to House during 'Three Stories' (House, MD, 1.22).

**Timelines:** Buffy, post-'Becoming, Part II'; general storyverse, post-Acquainted with the Night by **marag**, which is encompassed in its own wonderful universe where Gregory House was once our dear Timothy Drake...

**Spoilers:** Buffy, seasons one and two; the above masterpieces. _Batman Begins/The Dark Knight_.

Prologue  
_  
"If you walk out of this house right now, don't even_ think _about coming back." - Joyce Summers, 'Becoming, Part II; Buffy the Vampire Slayer, 2.22'_

The haze of tears abated slightly as Buffy blinked enough of them away to see.

She was here again, in Angel's mansion, her Claddagh ring lying there on the floor before her but every time she started to pick it up, the sobs threatened again and she had to stop yet and again to collect herself. Finally, she reached down and snatched up her ring, quickly slinging her bag back over her shoulder before running out of the house.

Getting a bus to Gotham wasn't difficult, though she hated the way everyone (or so she felt) stared at her because, try as she might, she couldn't stop crying. Buffy steeled herself and blew out a breath.

Never mind any of that, it wasn't important. What was important was getting to Gotham and getting in touch with Bruce Wayne however she could.

Her figurative 'grandfather', as it were, was the closest chance she had of finding Timothy Drake, now known as Dr. Gregory House, and that had to be her main focus.

She needed to know who the man her mother had fallen in love with was, even if he'd decided he no longer was that person.

After all, they had something in common now, didn't they?

Buffy gripped her Claddagh tighter as the bus rolled, for her, far too slowly along and willed herself to stop crying.

With a breath of fresh air, as the bus finally rolled into the Gotham Greyhound station two days later, she finally felt as though she'd succeeded.

...TBC...


	2. Mission

**Identity Crisis**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** DC Comics; Heel and Toe; Warner Bros.; Whedon, et al. own all.

**Summary:** Her figurative 'grandfather', as it were, was the closest chance she had of finding Timothy Drake, now known as Dr. Gregory House, and that had to be her main focus.

**Notes:** Written with **marag**'s blessing; I got this idea and had to run with it...

Also, Fibromuscular dysplasia is the logical diagnosis for what happened to House during 'Three Stories' (House, MD, 1.22).

**Timelines:** Buffy, post-'Becoming, Part II'; general storyverse, post-Acquainted with the Night by **marag**, which is encompassed in its own wonderful universe where Gregory House was once our dear Timothy Drake...

**Spoilers:** Buffy and House, M.D. seasons one and two; the above masterpieces. _Batman Begins/The Dark Knight_.

Part I: Mission

_Several Months Earlier..._

"Buffy, are you sure you want to do this?" Willow's voice was cautious and probing, prompting Buffy to sigh and again shake off the vestiges of the nightmare she'd lived through when Billy Palmer's comatose world had spilled out into the real one.

She'd known since before the divorce that Hank wasn't her biological father, but it had still cut sharply to hear her deepest fear spelled out so plainly.

Buffy frowned, then, shoving the memory away once and for all and faced Willow and her computer.

"I just...I just want to know where I really come from. Mom told me a few things about him, but she didn't know a lot anymore. She said he disappeared a little while later. I get the feeling she thinks he's dead or missing. She said one of the reasons she left Gotham in the first place was because it was so dangerous."

Upon Willow's askance expression, Buffy snorted, "Yes, bask in _that_ irony for a moment, won't you? Anyway, yeah, she's from Gotham, they both were -- she said his name was 'Tim'. Timothy Drake. She got all -- you know, like, 'I really wish I weren't telling you this, but I think you deserve the truth so I'll ignore the way my face is burning like a four-alarm fire and just tell you -- '"

And here Buffy brightened superficially, trilling, "You're a bastard, sweetheart!" before darkening again.

At Willow's subsequent frown, she amended, "Okay, she didn't say it like that or with those words, but I'm kind of bitter, okay? Working through the bitter, here. The point is that you're the best, Wills, and _so_ much better with computers than I am, or Xand. And, of course, Giles thinks they should be cast into the fires of the Hellmouth, itself, so -- "

"Okay, okay, I get your point!" Willow cut in, now glowing with both embarrassment and pride. "Alright, so first we'll go on your mom's hunch and check the morgues, just to make sure..."

***

Buffy sighed and unfolded the print-out Willow had given her for what had to be the thousandth time. Timothy Drake, at age sixteen -- his last known photograph anywhere in Gotham. She'd sat in the bus terminal just staring at it, remembering all the scholarly and other accolades and awards he'd gotten that had been listed under his name and the huge red 'MISSING' notation before that.

It had annoyed her slightly, seeing he was only five-foot-six then, when her stepfather had been almost four inches taller at the same age. _Now_ she knew where she'd gotten her stupid shortness from, it seemed.

The photograph in the print-out was in the same kind of primitive color that several of her mother's family photos had been in when they'd looked through the album together and what struck her most were his blue eyes, staring back out of the photograph along with a huge smile that said his whole world was all-but-perfect. She hoped he still felt that way, wherever he was.

Glancing down at the address for information, it had read Wayne Manor, care of Bruce Wayne. Willow had brightened instantly after Career Day, remembering that WayneTech Corporation had been the ones scouting out herself and another boy named Oz that she'd obviously been interested in -- she'd only mentioned him six more times before the conversation was over, actually having him win out over computers.

Buffy had been amused, to say the least.

But now it was almost enough to make her stomach churn. Bruce Wayne had been her biological father's benefactor in some way, leading a corporation major enough to personally scout out the two best computer tech students in their school, and he had a deep connection, it seemed, with her missing father. She wondered what their story was, but needed to find him first to figure out what was the what.

The question was how to do that. If Gotham was so dangerous that Mom had felt L.A. was a viable alternative, what on earth was someone so upstanding as Bruce Wayne still doing here after all this time? Buffy groaned irritably before pausing and forcing herself to stop thinking and simply _act_.

Agonizing over what was going to happen wasn't going to help her. She was here now. The only thing she could do was ask around.

At best, she'd find what she was looking for -- at worst, she'd still be able to make a fresh start. She was still a Slayer, after all, and a few dozen human baddies weren't enough to deter her. She could kick their asses one-handed.

...So what the hell was she so afraid of?

***

Bruce frowned deeply, reading over the printouts Barbara had given him after he'd asked for more in-depth information about who had been looking into them, much less hacked into the Bat Cave's computer system and figured out their basic location.

This Willow Rosenberg was only a teenager yet, from the look of her grades, she'd've given Tim a run for his money back in the day.

The same went for Daniel Osbourne, but since he hadn't looked into them, it was more of them stumbling upon him once they'd worked together on a project of some sort. He'd sent WayneTech representatives to Sunnydale, California with the goal of gaining information on these two children, as well as possibly recruit them into his company later in their lives or possibly before they graduated if they were good enough, which it appeared they were. He'd have to keep an eye on them for the foreseeable future.

But the main thing of importance was that they were looking into Tim's background and trying to find where he was now. He wasn't _particularly_ worried, knowing Tim had covered his own tracks very well -- he never thought that that might bring him comfort, but if anyone meant Tim any harm -- if _Hush_ ever found Tim -- Bruce and the rest of their family would rain Hell down on them as swiftly as possible.

As it was, it was an understatement -- to say the least -- when Bernard entered the Cave personally to tell him that a young girl was at the door of the manor, the poor thing soaked and miserable from the rain, her main insistence being that she was looking for a Timothy Drake, including carrying a now-runny print-out of him, and saying (as though she expected to be thrown into Arkham any moment) that he was her father and whether Bruce Wayne or anyone else Timothy had known possibly had even the slightest clue where he was.

Bruce had met her at the foyer himself, gratified that Bernard had wrapped her in an extra bathrobe and brought out chairs for each of them.

Bruce was forcing himself to breathe past the astonishment he felt. He could see that, despite her what would ordinarily be a far-fetched tale under normal circumstances (ones which none in the room lived under, though neither party truly knew it), she was telling the truth.

He could see the shape of Tim's face at her age in her own, though their eyes were different, as was their hair, it was other little things -- even the ravenous way she put away enough food for two or more people once Bruce and Bernard had situated her in the dining room and plied her with food.

The way she had moved, ever gracefully even loaded down with a pack and the sopping wet clothing Bernard had immediately exchanged with Cassandra for dry, clean pajamas upon allowing her a shower and finally seating her at the table -- it all but screamed 'Tim' to everyone present who had known him.

She moved like a fighter, taking in her every surroundings, her balance perfect and ready to strike even as she forced herself not to shovel food down her throat.

It was obvious she hadn't eaten or slept in at least a day and Bruce simply sat back and studied her, easily lining up the time period and Tim's actions after he'd gone after Black Mask in his head.

When the girl had finally sat back, sated and exhausted, Bruce had merely asked, "What's your name?"

***

Buffy startled slightly, her lip trembling as tears came back to her eyes yet again. She tried to smile and failed miserably. "I...w-when I was born, my mother named me Elizabeth but no one ever calls me that. I've always been Buffy, ever since I could remember. I found -- well, no, my friend Wills and I found a copy of my original birth certificate. I'd had no idea Elizabeth Jamison was my original legal name. But then again..."

Buffy gave another watery smile, "I always thought I was born in L.A., but it turns out my mother, _Joyce Jamison_ only moved there a little after I was born because she didn't want me to be -- she said my -- biological father, your Timothy Drake, had been in a lot of danger -- she'd been caught in a little of it and that was actually how they met. She didn't give me any of those details. But she didn't want me to grow up..."

Buffy looked up at the ceiling, her eyes widening and her mouth tipping open slightly as she realized just how high it went.

Seconds later, she mastered herself with an immediacy that Bruce rather admired. "She didn't want me to grow up -- here, I guess -- in a place she felt was so dangerous -- I guess this was after h-he -- " Buffy gestured to the unfolded printout that sat before Bruce, Tim's smiling young face looking hauntingly up from the once white paper.

"She said after she and my stepfather divorced that she thought he -- Tim Drake -- was dead. She'd tried a few times to find him and couldn't and -- " Buffy sniffled, which surprised Bruce, given that she'd never known Tim, much less gained an attachment to him.

"But I just need to know if he's alive or not. I'm not going back to Sunnydale, even if he's not. But Gotham is my only lead."

Buffy frowned then, locking eyes on Bruce in a way he honestly didn't expect. "You're my only lead. He's from here, my mother and aunts are from here -- everything we could find said that you took care of him once. I just want to know if he's dead or not. Then I have to move on."

Bruce considered her words for a moment before asking, as delicately as he could, "Is your mother still living?"

He didn't expect the harsh chuckle received in return. Even without looking, he could tell that Bernard, too, was startled.

"Yes, she is. I'm the one that's dead to her, it seems," was all the answer Buffy would give.

Knowing he shouldn't pry any further than that, Bruce nodded before rising and calmly asking Cass to show Buffy to a room.

Buffy was surprised when Bruce's final words to her that evening were for her to make herself at home.

...TBC...

"But I just need to know if he's alive or not. I'm not going back to Sunnydale, even if he's not. But Gotham is my only lead."

Buffy frowned then, locking eyes on Bruce in a way he honestly didn't expect. "You're my only lead. He's from here, my mother and aunts are from here -- everything we could find said that you took care of him once. I just want to know if he's dead or not. Then I have to move on."

Bruce considered her words for a moment before asking, as delicately as he could, "Is your mother still living?"

He didn't expect the harsh chuckle received in return. Even without looking, he could tell that Bernard, too, was startled.

"Yes, she is. I'm the one that's dead to her, it seems," was all the answer Buffy would give.

Knowing he shouldn't pry any further than that, Bruce nodded before rising and calmly asking Cass to show Buffy to a room.

Buffy was surprised when Bruce's final words to her that evening were for her to make herself at home.

...TBC...


	3. Terms

**Identity Crisis**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** DC and Dark Horse Comics, respectively; Heel and Toe; Warner Bros.; Whedon, et al. own all.

**Summary:** Bruce began rubbing circles in Buffy's back. "You don't have to explain anything."

"I kind of...do. I...I had dreams about...about _Dad_, when he was a kid, here, with his brother, Dick -- "

**Notes:** Written with **marag**'s blessing; I got this idea and had to run with it...

Also, Fibromuscular dysplasia is a logical diagnosis for what happened to House during 'Three Stories' (House, MD, 1.22) and has continued to plague him into seasons beyond, though -- again -- this takes place in HMD, S2.

**Timelines:** Buffy, (including the following comics) post-_Viva Las Buffy_, _Slayer, Interrupted_, and _A Stake to the Heart_; post-'Becoming, Part II'; general storyverse, post-Acquainted with the Night by **marag**, which is encompassed in its own wonderful universe where Gregory House was once our dear Timothy Drake...

Part II: Terms

When Buffy first awoke, she was surprised to find herself in a bed at least three times larger than herself, say nothing of how freaking comfortable it was, only second to her Yummy Sushi pajamas for their familiarity. Someone had been nice enough to pull Mr. Gordo out of her bag and set him on the bed next to her. Laughing sadly, she fingered one of his ears as the days and nights before came back to her and reminded her where she was.

Bruce Wayne's manor. A woman named Cass who hadn't spoken very much had led her to a room and gently shooed her into it, wordlessly (but not unkindly so) helping Buffy unpack and put what few clothes she'd salvaged away in the chest of drawers, and then gave her a small smile goodnight before leaving. Cass had had a strangely saddened expression on her face, but hadn't said anything and Buffy hadn't been in a talking mood, herself so she'd let it go.

Having been exhausted, Buffy had promptly climbed into bed and didn't remember much beyond that with the exception of a few clips of dreams she'd had.

_A young boy swinging on the chandelier, fearlessly flipping through the air...Another boy dressed in a tuxedo, his mouth stuffed practically the brim with cake while standing on a lawn in front of a huge house..._this_ house_ -- she vaguely remembered waking up at this point, but couldn't say for certain.

Sighing, Buffy stood and stretched to find her laundered clothes sitting in a neat stack on the chair in the far corner.

Dressing quietly, Buffy peeked out the door into the hall around her to find no one in the hall, which made her rather nervous. What if she wasn't supposed to be in the hall at all? What if she was first up and it'd be rude and stuff to go walking around like she owned the place.

She faintly remembered Bruce Wayne telling her to make herself at home, but she couldn't just --

_STOP._

Buffy forced herself to breathe and simply went down the hall to a wide set of stairs, another odd flash from her dreams coming back to her of the two boys -- one of whom was now much larger than the other -- sliding down the banisters on either side of her on their feet, their faces full of glee and competition as they tried to race one another to the bottom.

A stern voice echoing up from the dining room, telling 'Masters Richard and Timothy -- ' the latter gave Buffy pause, causing her to grip the closest of the two banisters as she realized she'd dreamed of her father and...uncle?...in their childhood and teenage years -- 'to please retrieve their manners from wherever they'd so suddenly abandoned them and abscond from the rails this instant, using the stairs themselves like civilized young men'.

Richard Grayson and Timothy Drake -- _Dick and Tim_, her heart told her -- both rolling their eyes slightly, sighing and jumping down onto the staircase she now stood upon. They both had looked so happy.

Buffy now fought the urge to cry again, memories of patrolling with Willow and Xander invading so suddenly as to force her to bite her lip, and stood for...she didn't know how long...before finally finding herself able to finish the trek to the dining room, finding not the first Butler!Guy, of course, but the one who'd introduced himself as 'Bernard' the night before.

He smiled at her, showing her to a seat and gently maneuvering her into it before placing a warm, damp towel in her hands and asking her what she would like from the amazing spread Buffy now noticed before her. Not knowing what to choose, Buffy dithered, wiping her hands thoroughly with the towel before just pointing to something, which turned out to be a tureen of oatmeal.

Buffy almost made a face at the fact that it was plain, but she caught herself at the last moment. Bernard, however, chuckled and placed both syrup and coffee creamer before her, which brightened Buffy's face before she'd realized it so that he'd chuckled in a conspiratorial manner.

Buffy would have asked what was so funny, but was too busy doctoring her oatmeal and picking other things, watching Bernard heap them on plates before her.

Finally, she decided that she had enough and started eating. She distinctly, however, heard Bernard mutter on his way out of the room, "...Just like her father..."

***

Bruce examined the ring Buffy had forgotten in one of her pockets the night before. Bernard had retrieved it when washing her clothes and he'd immediately researched it in the database, only to find nothing. Barbara had suggested using the actual internet and they'd immediately come across an encyclopedia of sorts that told him it was called a Claddagh ring and was traditionally a sign of devotion and even marriage in Ireland.

From what he knew about Tim, he wasn't Irish, but they weren't quite certain. Tim's birth parents hadn't seen their other family members very often and from Barbara's own research into Buffy's mother and stepfather, they hadn't been Irish, either.

He wouldn't ask Buffy where the ring had come from when he returned it to her, opting instead to simply watch her reaction. He preferred that Cass be there, as well, because out of all of them, she was the best at reading people and their body language.

The only thing he could say for certain was that someone either Irish or of Irish decent had given her the ring, possibly someone she'd engaged in a romantic relationship with.

He would wait for an explanation. For now, Bruce felt it was important that Tim know that he quite probably had a daughter here waiting for him who, if nothing else, wanted to know he was alive, if not meet him.

And given Tim's own feelings on the subject of family, Bruce knew that even his own antipathy toward Gotham wouldn't keep him from wanting to see her. If he wanted to meet her there, however, that could be arranged, if Tim was willing to see either Clark, Kon, Wally, or Bart -- or Bruce, himself, if they decided to take his jet.

Then again, it was also a matter of how Buffy, herself, felt -- as Tim, himself had put it -- 'about capes and spandex...'

***

Buffy sat back, plates empty before her, finally sated once more, and slightly annoyed at the way Bernard had seemed practically on the verge of _giggles_ the entire time she'd eaten.

Sitting back up, she shot him an annoyed look, which seemed only to spur further amusement.

"Okay, look, I heard that little observation that I'm just like my birth dad, so apparently we can both put away some food. Okay. Big deal."

Bernard stopped restraining his smile and gave her a wide, bright grin, at which Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, God, this is never going to end, is it? Not until I meet him? So -- " she gestured uselessly. "So how do we arrange that? You guys seem to know where he is, after all."

Bernard sighed and his smile lessened considerably. "Your father is in Princeton, New Jersey. He was here several months ago under great duress to attend a dinner party that we were throwing for Master Wayne's birthday. I imagine that if you decide to stay here in Gotham, as you have stated is your wish, you may just end up attending a few, yourself. Tim's female friends would be delighted to both meet you, as well as  
take you shopping for dresses and other -- "

At Buffy's wide-eyed, delighted expression at the mere mention of shopping, Bernard chuckled again. "And here, you are _not_ like your father, who absolutely hates shopping and will wear the same clothing for at least a decade, if his friend Dr. Wilson is to be believed. The _lone_ exception being t-shirts, it seems..."

Buffy faked an affronted expression. "What? I'm a girl -- a girl from California! Me and shopping are at one with each other!"

Bernard only smiled again and began clearing the dishes. When Buffy tried to get up to help, he gently pressed her shoulder downward to sit her back into her chair. "You'll sit right here until Master Wayne comes up to greet you. I believe he has some things he would like to ask you -- mainly the origin of the ring you had on your person when you arrived?"

Buffy's eyes widened as she suddenly realized she'd forgotten all about Angel's ring. How could she even do that? _Why_ would she even do that?

Ignoring Bernard's earlier admonishment, Buffy pushed back her chair and jumped to her feet, immediately beginning to pace around the hall.

"How do I get wherever Mr. Wayne is? I-I need my ring, I need it back -- please?" Buffy found herself on the verge of tears again and Bernard was obviously taken aback.

"No need to worry, Miss, I'll simply have him called up if you'll _please_ just sit back down. I assure you, nothing has happened to it. It's perfectly fine."

Buffy nodded, wiping her eyes as she grudgingly allowed Bernard to lead her back to her seat and forced herself to sit there, wringing her hands as she watched Bernard leave the room again, this time down a different hallway.

An eternity later (really, only ten or so minutes) Mr. Wayne strode gracefully into the dining room, just like the night before, and Buffy found herself wondering vaguely how he was still so fit as a fiddle at -- she forced herself to stop that line of thinking, as well, and watched as he sat down in the chair closest to her before reaching into an inner pocket of his suit jacket and removing her Claddagh ring, which he gently held out to her and didn't object to her accidentally snatching it out of his hands, tears finally cascading down her face.

"I take it whomever gave that to you, you loved a great deal and he in return?"

Buffy bit her lip, blinking steadily through the burn of the tears that refused to abate yet again as she slid it onto her right ring finger with the crown facing inward.

"He...I..." Buffy tried not to break down again, but it was so difficult getting the words out. Mr. Wayne was watching her, deep concern on his face as he watched her try to master herself as she had done the night before, but this time failing utterly.

She cried this time and clearly couldn't help it.

Bruce bit his lip before bringing up his closest hand and stroking some of the tears away from her face. Buffy watched him, hitching as she tried to stop crying again, but he didn't say anything until, finally, she'd seemed to have spent them all for the time being.

He sighed and wrapped his, for all intents and purposes, granddaughter in a hug.

***

Buffy sank into Bruce's arms, tired of having to be the strong one, tired of never letting anything get to her. "I...I loved him so much. And he loved me. He told me about the ways of his people...so long ago...that he was devoted to me, just like the heart...Spike said we couldn't be friends like the hands mean, but the crown...God, Angel was so loyal to me..."

Bruce found himself frowning at this new knowledge of someone else causing Buffy grief. "Spike?"

Buffy gave a small, hard laugh. "His name was William, actually. 'Spike's' just a nickname. Whatever. He said, 'You're not friends, you'll never _be_ friends -- you'll both be in love until it kills you both!' And, oh, God, he's so right. I...I can't...it's so hard to explain!"

Bruce began rubbing circles in Buffy's back. "You don't have to explain anything."

"I kind of...do. I...I had dreams about...about _Dad_, when he was a kid, here, with his brother, Dick -- "

Bruce stiffened before forcing himself to relax. "You're clairvoyant?"

Buffy chuckled before sighing and sitting back in her chair again, "I...sort of. I don't really know how to explain it. But I'm so tired of hiding. Mom and my stepdad decided I was crazy once -- locked me away and everything, but they still don't know what happened there.

"I guess it doesn't matter, I beat the Big Bad, so whatever. The ones I told, my friends, they took it well -- after a bit. See, they expect you to keep it to yourself forever and no one can know. Well, people knowing has kept me alive. And I don't know if all of you will just do what Mom did and throw me out -- "

Bruce sat abruptly backward, a sharp expression on his face, "No matter what you tell us, no matter what happens to you, you have a home here. Always."

Buffy felt her mouth drop open, tears trying valiantly to come back again, but she forced herself to take a deep breath and clenched her eyes shut for a moment. She had to do this before she lost her nerve. If she was going to be honest, if they were going to truly know her, they had to accept everything.

She had to give them a chance to do so. _Another flash of_ Dad_, this time dressed in an outfit, with a mask and an 'R' on the left side of his breastplate..._Robin...

Buffy almost laughed.

"I'm the Vampire Slayer."

***

Bruce's own eyes widened and, somehow, he managed to keep his mouth from falling open. "Really?" He'd once read about the Vampire Slayer when he was young and traveling the world, learning fighting styles, but he'd never seen actual proof, and if he had ever met one before now, he had no way of knowing. What Buffy said beforehand was true, they did encourage the utmost secrecy. He'd rather felt like his family and friends had all but waved billboard signs in comparison, especially with the lamp...but...

Bruce forced himself to focus. Buffy was watching him now, a small, yet sardonic smile on her face. "I suppose you want proof?"

Bruce gave a small laugh, himself, "I'd be a hypocrite if I asked for it, but I'm absolutely certain now that Tim and his friends will just love you. Your father will want proof because he'll be angry you were Chosen for such a horrible duty. He'll want to call up whomever's in charge of all of that and spout expletives that will annoy me deeply, but how can I object?

"I allowed him to take on the mantle of Robin because I felt he'd earned it. He did, he was the best, by far. I've always been so proud of him and, doubtless, he'll be the same of you."

Buffy tried to say something, anything, but found she couldn't. Her gaze dropped to her lap, where she played with Angel's ring, instead, but Bruce continued as if she were still watching him.

"He'll know you're a precious gift and feel as though you've already been stolen from him before he ever got a chance to really know you. I suppose we can't say Slayers are an urban legend anymore -- not that we did, because that would be hypocritical in the extreme, but even the legend says they -- you have short lifespans. Your father will be extremely angry that you're in such danger."

"Says _Robin_," Buffy somehow managed not to taunt. "Oh, boy, I can't _wait_."

Bruce sighed again, "Tim hasn't been Robin for a very long time. He left the mantle because I made a terrible mistake that cost him one of his dearest friends, someone whom he loved. It's my fault he's in Princeton and doesn't want to be here. But I hope I've made it clear he will always have a home here, just as you do."

Buffy sniffled, managing to look up. "Willow -- she's my friend who hacked you -- " At the knowing look on Bruce's face, she amended. "Right, so you totally know about that and I'm _really hoping_ you're not planning to turn her in or anything because we were just trying to figure who he was and it didn't fit right that Dr. Gregory House's life only started twenty-something years ago from everything we could find."

Bruce gave Buffy a small smile again. "Well, it seems that Tim's passed that intellect of his right on."

Buffy's eyes widened, "Wait, what -- oh, no, no, no, no, no. I'm -- not -- Willow's, like, totally smarter than me and Xander -- um, Alexander -- uh, he doesn't answer to that. But she's like the best in our class."

"Are yourself and Xander in the same classes as Willow?"

"Yeah, but we don't get her grades. I get, like B minuses and stuff and I think Xander gets Cs."

Bruce had to resist the urge to smile. It was very difficult. "But you do realize you're in Advanced Placement classes, yes?"

Buffy's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open and Bruce couldn't contain his smile any longer. "Yes, it's true. If you were in normal classes, every one of you would be A and A plus students."

Bruce honestly had to hold back laughter at Buffy's expression at this apparent revelation. "If it makes you feel any better, your father is the only diagnostician on the planet. When his fellows become diagnosticians, themselves, they'll have to take the exams for board certification that Tim, himself, helped write. There wasn't a test for it before he became one. There wasn't even a department for what he does -- Dr. Lisa Cuddy personally created it for him because no one else does what he can do. And, from the looks of it, he's given all that brilliance to you, even if you didn't realize it.

"You may be a Slayer, but you've lived longer than any other. There's no telling what your future's going to be like. You can do as you please. If nothing else, Buffy, remember that. Tim wasn't Robin forever, none of us can ever keep a mantle forever -- not even Clark or Kon-El will be able to continue indefinitely. They do age, as I have. There's always a future to be had, so why not plan for it? Never mind what the legend has insisted, because you've already outdone that. Tell me, what did you want to be before you found out about any of this?"

Buffy blushed furiously then, but forced herself to say, "An ice skater."

Bruce found himself amused at her bashfulness. "Is there something _wrong_ with being an ice skater?"

"There is when your dad's a world-famous _doctor_!" Buffy managed to squeak. At this Bruce snorted lightly.

"Oh, pish tosh. Your father wasn't actually _interested_ in his homework, he just did it. His heart lay in succeeding myself and his brother one day. Unfortunately, that never came to pass, but he found something else to replace it and he loves what he does. That's all that matters, Buffy -- that you love what you do."

Buffy fingered her Claddagh again, thinking of some of the things Angel had told her here and there about his family, even his father when he'd found out _Hank_ hadn't cared to stay in her life any longer.

"Angel -- my boyfriend, that's his nickname, I -- hearing his real name was always really hard for him. His mother named him and she died when he was really little. He barely remembers her and it still hurts him so much. But his father...Angel wanted to be an artist when he was a kid and he's so good, he's an artist -- but his dad expected him to take over their family business and was angry because Angel didn't want to.

They fought all the time and Angel...I get the feeling there's more to it, but his family was also really, really religious and I don't think his dad realized how much he hurt him. You said I'm..."

"Clairvoyant."

"Yeah -- um, Angel's -- _he's_ the one. It's freaky sometimes, but he can see what other -- people -- are doing sometimes and he dreams about it, like, in detail. I think his dad thought he was evil. He's not evil. He was such a good man. I don't know how his dad didn't see that. But he told me once that he got it from his mother, even though his dad thought he and his little sister, um, they were half-brother and sister, but he didn't care, he adores her -- he says she was normal -- got it from him, that he'd committed some kind of horrible sin.

"He never realized that Angel was just as religious as he was, but that from everything his father told him, God hated him. But Angel tried so hard to forget that it felt like his dad hated him, that he felt like he was damned before he could have done anything about it. He drank a lot back then because he wanted to forget what his dad thought of him. But he never has. That -- the junk his dad said -- hurt more than his mother's death."

Bruce sat back in his chair and considered what Buffy was telling him. She had switched back and forth between saying Angel was alive and speaking of him in the past-tense and though that was normal for someone who had just suffered the death of someone, it rankled at him, saying there was something else at play here.

Angel had given her a ring that was an ancient Irish custom. His family had been extremely religious...

He didn't want to put her through any more turmoil, but there was only one way to be certain. Barbara's research had taken them many places and not all of it was enjoyable. The mere fact that he now knew Buffy to be the Vampire Slayer spoke volumes, in and of itself.

None of their research said anything about Angel or Angelus being a Seer of any kind, but if she had known him personally, if she had loved him and he her in return, then she would be a better source than anything they could find elsewhere.

He tried to ask as gently as he could, but knew he'd jar her no matter what he did.

"Buffy, was Angel a vampire?"

...TBC...


	4. Shock

**Identity Crisis**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** DC and Dark Horse Comics, respectively; Heel and Toe; Warner Bros.; Whedon, et al. own all.

**Summary:** "After all, some of this is already an act, is it not? You can't be the Vampire Slayer every minute of every day."

**Notes:** Written with 's blessing; I got this idea and had to run with it...

Also, Fibromuscular dysplasia is a logical diagnosis for what happened to House during 'Three Stories' (House, MD, 1.22) and has continued to plague him into seasons beyond, though -- again -- this takes place in HMD, S2 and _very specifically_ during 'No Reason'.

**Timelines:** Buffy, (including the following comics) post-_Viva Las Buffy_, _Slayer, Interrupted_, and _A Stake to the Heart_; post-'Becoming, Part II'; general storyverse, post-Acquainted with the Night by **Mara Greengrass**, which is encompassed in its own wonderful universe where Gregory House was once our dear Timothy Drake...

Part III: Shock

_"Buffy, was Angel a vampire?"_

Buffy froze before standing, and backed away from Bruce, her face hard and deadly now. "How do you know about that?"

Bruce managed not to sigh and did Buffy the courtesy of looking her in the eye. "When Bernard found your ring, he brought it to me. We -- Barbara and I didn't know anything about it, whether it had come from Tim at any point or something of that sort. We did some research about it and found it about its origins in Ireland."

Bruce did sigh this time, not seeing any way out of this part. "There's also the fact that we've been monitoring your friends Willow and Daniel for quite a while. Contrary to what you probably believe, I would rather have them employed in my company than turned over to the authorities. It would be safer for them, as well, considering the corruption in the Gotham police force and the ineptitude we found regarding the Sunnydale police force, as well.

"Right now, since Ms. Rosenberg and Mr. Osbourne are in high school, though Mr. Osbourne is a senior and of legal age, it would be more prudent to hire them as interns. However, their ties to you and -- by distant association -- Tim, led us to investigate them on more than a cursory glance. I am just as impressed with Mr. Osbourne's test scores as I am yours and your friends' grades, though his grades, themselves, are weak."

Buffy fought the urge to defend Oz. She'd only known him for a little while, but Willow was head over heels -- that much was obvious -- so he was given her consideration. "He says he just tests well. He's a musician. That's what he spends most of his time doing when he's not doing stuff with Wills in our computer classes. But, yeah, he's really smart, too."

"And repeating his senior year," Bruce said calmly, watching Buffy's expression, which -- he was interested -- betrayed nothing. "I assume his interest in music is paramount to anything else?"

Buffy sighed, "You're trying to distract me from my question and I don't really appreciate it. You gave me enough of a plausible answer to make me think you'd answered it, but then you went completely off-track."

Bruce blinked before chuckling and glancing down, a very slight blush coming to his face. "I'm curious if you would be offended if I compared you favorably to your father, though Bernard did tell me that irks you right now since you still haven't met Tim yet. He was able to tell things about myself and Dick -- still is, I should say -- that we tried our hardest to hide, or couldn't tell ourselves at certain times. He's actually used that ability to protect us from ourselves and it's...well, jarring is still the word that comes to mind."

Buffy raised an eyebrow, still slightly miffed that they kept mentioning her dad when he hadn't even seen him yet, but accepted this as a compliment rather than a point of amusement. "It's okay. I'd like to get around to that meeting part soon, if it's okay with anyone here? I don't mean to sound like a jerk, but I came here for answers, not more allusions and questions." Buffy paused. "And, I do _not_ sound like myself. I've only been out of California for four days! This was supposed to take longer!"

Bruce smothered a grin and shrugged. "You're extremely intelligent, you're resourceful, I see no reason to speak to you any differently than I would anyone else I know. Perhaps you've merely decided that, yourself. Subconsciously.

"After all, some of this is already an act, is it not? You can't be the Vampire Slayer every minute of every day."

Buffy nodded and waved a hand dismissively. "True. Now, can you answer my question? Why do you know Angel's a vampire?"

Bruce nodded and continued, "Well -- and I know this will probably bother you, but your friend Willow actually made this rather easier -- Barbara, herself, is a hacker, you see -- when we began to do research, we not only looked up the origin of the ring you wear, but things about Sunnydale, itself. Rather odd things, like a disproportionate number of churches and cemeteries, as well as weekly obituaries filled with names of high school students. Odd occurrences, things of the like."

Bruce scowled slightly, "To be honest, I'm rather horrified by what I saw. When we attempted to get specific names, dates, and other things, we found the same ludicrous causes of death over and over -- wild dogs, barbecue forks...when faced with the corruption of the Gotham City Police Department, this was simply ridiculous."

Buffy snorted and raised an eyebrow in Bruce's direction, who gave her an apologetic smile. "Forgive me, I know I'm having a difficult time expressing all of this...Barbara was able to follow your friend Willow's trail through the internet through something she calls an 'ISP' -- "

"Internet service provider," Buffy rattled off, making an effort not to roll her eyes before freezing again and then sighing. "Mr. Wayne -- "

"Bruce."

"Bruce. The point. It's sharp, actually kind of hard to miss."

Bruce paused, actually feeling rushed for the first time in a very long time. "Well. Alright. Barbara found archives of ancient books that had been, she said, scanned into the high school's computer database. Books on very arcane knowledge.

"Your friends use this database very often and quite a lot of it had to do with vampires. Most recently, it had to do with one line of them than any other and, in particular, one vampire more than any other..."

"Angelus," Buffy said tonelessly, fingering the cross around her neck. "Well, I guess that makes sense. So," and here Buffy shot Bruce a combination of irritation and deadpan, "Going to give me the talk about how it's bad to make nice with the enemy? Let alone _that_ nice?"

Bruce sighed, his brow furrowing. "Why would I do that? It's obvious to anyone here that you hardly need more guilt heaped upon you. Say nothing of the fact that until Angelus lost his soul again, he did nothing that we can find at all to harm the population anywhere. Say nothing of the fact that anyone who had seen you only moments ago would have to be an absolute bastard to rub salt in your already gaping wounds."

Buffy's eyes widened again, tears coming to them once more, but she managed to blink them back. "He's a good man," she whispered. "He's not the demon...the demon was the thing that killed him."

Bruce paused again, "My apologies. Angel. He's gone by that name for at least a century, correct?" At Buffy's nod, Bruce nodded back. "There was research done by either Willow or Daniel about something called the Mouth of Acathla. Care to enlighten me?"

Buffy felt the tears that had threatened before spill over, but managed not to lose it again. "It's a statue, actually. Angelus was going to suck the world into Hell -- uh, the Hell in Acathla's mouth. He had to pull the sword out. He was the only one that could.

"His blood opens the portal and only his blood could close it because he's a master vampire and head of his line. He was, even when he had -- had his soul, but he would never have done that back then. Anyway...he opened the portal and I had to close it, but I didn't...Willow was trying to help me -- us, Angel and I -- and I didn't know it -- at least, I can only guess it was her. She's the only logical guess. She put his soul back, right...right..."

Buffy shook her head, tears spilling again as she jumped up and ran away from Bruce, not stopping until she reached her new room again and falling onto the bed, crying until she felt like all her insides had been drained of everything.

Bruce didn't follow her, it'd be useless.

***

Bruce sat in the dining hall, staring upward at the stairwell Buffy had run up, her speed and agility completely apparent in her distress. He didn't want to go the direction he had with their conversation but neither of them could allow it to hang in the air, that much had been obvious the longer they spoke to one another.

Knowing it'd be better if Cass were the one to find her, Bruce slowly rose to his feet and returned to the Cave, the familiar flutter of thousands of bats barely audible to him after all this time. Barbara, who had likely been listening through the door he'd left open, cast a distressed look in his direction before turning around completely as he sat down.

"I think it'd be best if Cass went to sit with her," he explained and she nodded, running her hands along the wheels of her chair before gesturing once more at the stacks of printed information they'd retrieved on Buffy's previous location.

"I don't know how this town is still standing," she said tiredly and Bruce gave her a sardonic smile.

"Well, some would say the same for Gotham, wouldn't they?"

Barbara conceded his point before glancing concernedly at the screen before her. "I've been trying to reach Tim. I've tried all of his numbers -- even the unlisted cellphone Dick gave him the last time he was here. No answers at all."

Bruce frowned in worry and then turned to the screen, trying to decide which command to use before Barbara chose for him and hacked into the computer in Tim's office.

It's there that they find Tim's fellows grouped around his body on the floor, his whiteboard having fallen over, all of them too busy with a heavily bleeding Tim to notice the screen of his computer coming on.

"Oh, God," Bruce is all can say. He doesn't have to say anything else.

...TBC...


	5. Discord

**Identity Crisis**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** DC and Dark Horse Comics, respectively; Heel and Toe; Warner Bros.; Whedon, et al. own all. Fall Out Boy. "Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes.". Decaydance, Island, Fueled by Ramen, 2008. (Fitting, no?)

**Summary:** "When I wake up," Tim -- House said firmly, using one of his own shurikens to cut through the thick vines binding...more of the people he cared for...to the huge trees all around them... "This'll be over, they'll be safe, and you'll be _gone_!"

**Notes:** Written with **marag**'s blessing; I got this idea and had to run with it, but you know the other stuff by now...

Plus, there's an accidental tiny, little nod to The Giver by Lois Lowry in here, which I didn't intend, but probably happened because I'm re-reading it. I also saw _Alice in Wonderland_, the Tim Burton version, yesterday, and am trying to read the book when not incredibly sleepy. So if any of that influences this, you now know the culprits.

And I have an idea about Slayers and those allowed to remain with families or anything approaching them.

**Notes, continued:** And, hey, did I mention this is, like, _incredibly_ AU? Especially the part where I have no reason to be bitter about House's treatment by anyone else. And that's all I'll say on the matter. Anyone who's read the comics (or researched Tim on Wiki like I did because I don't have access to the comics) in the last year or so might be pleased...

**Timelines:** Buffy, (including the following comics) post-_Viva Las Buffy_, _Slayer, Interrupted_, and _A Stake to the Heart_; post-'Becoming, Part II';

General storyverse, post-Acquainted with the Night by **marag**, which is encompassed in its own wonderful universe where Gregory House was once our dear Timothy Drake...

House, M.D., 'No Reason'.

Part IV: Discord

_I'm coming apart at the seams, pitching myself as leads in other people's dreams, now -- buzz, buzz, buzz -- _Doc_, there's a hole where something was, Doc, there's a hole where something was..._

House opened his eyes and immediately wanted to close them again. Robin -- _he_ was sitting there, staring at himself with that same content half-smile he'd always felt like wearing back then. He'd _been_ content back then.

"Go away. I'm not you anymore."

"Why do you keep saying that, Tim?" Robin asked, rolling his eyes. "It's crap and you know it."

Robin whipped out a shuriken -- _R-shaped_, just like House would always remember -- and cut his IV before taking his hand.

"What the fuck are you doing? That's -- " Suddenly House screamed as pain stabbed the back of his neck and the front, his shoulder and abdomen, _and_ his leg all at once. He curled in a ball, facing away from Robin, grinding his teeth at the pain.

Somehow he could tell Robin was rolling his eyes. "We've faced worse and you know it. Or, I should say, _you'll_ face worse if you don't get up and come with me. This is important. I swear, you won't regret it."

House wanted to tell his younger self to go fuck himself, but considering the situation who knew what the hell that might lead to...?

Behind him, Robin sighed before reaching up to House's back and pressing firmly. "You're flying," Robin told him firmly. "You're flying and there's nothing holding or controlling your trajectory except your own power. A grappling hook, a line launcher -- the only thing keeping you in any control and you love it. Remember..."

House couldn't hold in a sob, and then another. Everything Robin was saying was playing out right before his eyes. They were in the Palisades, which was strange, but somehow it didn't matter.

"You have to save them and you know you can. Go do it."

Suddenly, House saw not only Cuddy and Wilson, but Chase, Cameron, and Foreman all tied up against the trees, their feet suspended off the ground, they'd been tied so high. The Joker was hopping around them, taunting them -- Harley was smearing lipstick on her already made-up face before planting one on Wilson that left him dazed. He had a feeling Wilson had just been poisoned. He wanted, needed to do something -- the antidote was suddenly here in his hand, but...

"Did you happen to miss the cane? Or the right anterior quadriceps I'm missing? Or do you just not care?"

_Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy..._

Robin sighed impatiently, "We know, we've had a feeling for a long time -- if either Mom or Dad hadn't been murdered, they'd've ended up like us somehow. We've just had a feeling. But, we know what? It doesn't matter because they didn't suffer when they died, and that matters to us even more than what and who killed them because we would never want anyone to face what we face, feel what we feel...but it could even be too late for that. And whether we like it or not, it's on our head, so we better do _something_ about it because if we don't..."

Before House could ask Robin what the hell he meant, Cuddy screamed and he forgot about anything that had just happened. The Joker was trying to feed her something -- Joker fish, he could see. Before he knew it, he was gliding down, halfway there already.

"Don't _you_ think it's morally repugnant to feed vegans animal products?" he asked as he landed before punching The Joker in the face and tossing the chopped remains of the fish away before any of it, he was gratified to see, made it into Li -- Cuddy's mouth.

His entire body was throbbing with waves of electric knives stabbing him at all the right places but he breathed and breathed and closed his eyes, just for a moment, ignoring it.

It was nothing more than wear and tear. "Come on, ladies first -- damn it, Quinn, for fuck's sake, I didn't mean you -- now stay down or I'll do what I promised that goon long ago and rip your arm out of your socket!"

"You don't -- " Robin must have attacked her from behind because she gave a cry and fell back down without another word.

House -- _Tim_ breathed and then scowled. Now wasn't the time for that. Cuddy, Wilson, the kids -- they were what was important. Not any of his stupid hangups.

"Well, now, I wouldn't go so far as to say nerve, arterial, nephrotic, neurological, and venous damage is some kind of wear and tear or -- hangup," Robin said calmly, but Tim brushed him off. "Though the fact that our liver seems to be just about new is simply astonishing."

"You wanted me down here now shut the fuck up."

"Oooh, isn't this interesting?" A bloody-faced Joker was getting to his feet again and Tim and Robin each groaned before sighing in unison.

They'd had a personal rule -- no allowing the Joker to talk. They could only imagine what kind of ideas the son of a bitch had put in Cuddy, Wilson, and the kids' heads while he'd been unconscious, but that couldn't be helped now.

Without a thought, Tim and Robin both whipped out a Batarang, this time, and whipped them at the Joker, inwardly rejoicing when they caught him in the face, knocking him back. Robin went over and applied pressure to The Joker's carotid arteries -- _gee, the things one part of your subconscious picks up..._

Robin scowled, "I'm not any part of your _subconscious_, when will you get that through your head?" -- until The Joker passed out from lack of oxygen. They resisted the very strong urge to kick him in the kidneys.

"When I wake up," Tim -- House said firmly, using one of his own shurikens to cut through the thick vines binding...more of the people he cared for...to the huge trees all around them... "This'll be over, they'll be safe, and you'll be _gone_!"

Robin sounded angry now, but sadness was apparent in his every word. "I'll _never_ be gone, but you'll never be complete again until you realize that. I guess I'll have to count on her, then."

"Count on who?" Tim -- House asked sharply, and sure enough Tim, now older, his uniform altered and differently colored to reflect this fact was facing him now.

"We don't know everything, Tim," _Red Robin_ said and House froze, his head suddenly feeling it was going to burst. He cried out in pain for the first time in however long and fell to his knees before curling up on the ground, his entire body again suffused with pain.

He moaned and began to cry for the first time since Steph's funeral, this time, though, his entire body was wracked with sobs.

Cuddy, Wilson, and the kids didn't seem to notice, though -- merely concerned with the appearance of this _Red Robin_, all of them gathering around him and expressing either effusive thanks, irritation and skepticism, or outright glee in the case of Chase.

No one was noticing House curled on the ground, now vomiting with the strength of the pain.

Red Robin ignored them all now, instead turning to walk over and picking up House, who found himself shrinking into a peds gown, his sobs and cries becoming higher in pitch as he clung to Red Robin's cowl and cried shamelessly.

"You hurt," Red Robin said softly and Timmy could only cry harder because moving, _breathing_ hurt so much. Every pound of his heart was like a hammer in his veins.

"I want my mommy -- Mommy, Daddy -- Bruce -- please? Please help me!"

"All you had to do is say so, to ask," Red Robin whispered and he wrapped Timmy in his cape, and Timmy felt himself sinking inside Red Robin somehow and they were the same person again and Tim was big once more.

Wilson looked embarrassed and fell all over himself making apologies, but Cuddy and the rest were standing there astonished before Cuddy became angry.

"How could you hide something like this from me?"

"I didn't know you cared," Tim, again an adult and while still older, dressed in Red Robin's uniform like some strange amalgamation of the two of them.

_Like our self!_ Red Robin snarled in his head but Tim concentrated on Cuddy for the moment.

"How the hell could I tell you something like this? It was weird enough telling Wilson and that could probably be considered a crime of passion. You'd have had me locked up in the psych ward. Admit it!"

_...Hey, doctor, I'm certifiable, oh..._

"You don't know what I would have done! You've never given anyone the chance to really know you, even Wilson and I -- I went to your _foster father's_ birthday party and didn't even know it!"

Cuddy was devastated and Tim could only stare in shock.

"You're Robin -- you could have been Red Robin, but why tell _me_? You're sure you love me, but hey -- why should I know something so much a part of you?"

"It's not -- "

"STOP LYING!"

Tim blinked as everyone yelled at him this time.

"You can't just give up a part of your personality, a part of your _life_!" Wilson snapped and Tim -- House wanted to punch him, but years of discipline prevented it.

"Says the guy who willingly abandoned his brother!"

"Like you didn't abandon _yours_!"

"You won't even tell us how much it hurts," Chase cut in quietly, which was a surprise. Ti -- House went to interrupt, but Chase plowed over him. "You _really_ think none of us would care? That -- "

And here Chase morphed into Bart, of all people. Foreman became The Ray.

Wilson became Clark, but not completely -- it was like something about Wilson was so fundamentally different from Clark that the transformation couldn't complete itself. Their amalgam was messy and distorted, almost nightmarish, and Tim forced himself to concentrate on Cameron as she became Greta, who was crying silently.

Cuddy became an infuriated Wonder Girl, except that her hair wasn't a wig...they were all Young Justice again and it hurt terribly in a different way.

Chase/Impulse was still talking. "-- none of us would want you back? Would take care of you if you needed it? Would _know_ you _do_ need it? You think us that blind? You _want_ us that blind? Are you really that self-hating?"

But then Tim's voice caught in his throat because Bruce and Dick walked out from behind all of them, Batman and Nightwing in all their glory, and stood before Tim, shielding him from their obfuscating amalgamations.

"He's afraid he's screwed up too badly," Dick said quietly. "He's afraid all he's been for so long is a screw-up. He can't see the good he's done because no one's mentioned it except to give him a pat on the head."

And here Dick glared exclusively at Cuddy, who shrank at the intensity. "He may love you and you may love him but, remember, he's a person, not your lapdog. Don't you _ever_ start thinking that. Stacy already betrayed him, don't follow in her footsteps. Most of you knows that, already. Don't let your ambitions get in the way of his humanity.

"_That way lies madness_," his big brother quoted.

Cuddy stared wide-eyed at Nightwing lecturing her, but said nothing in defense of herself. Tim supposed she was too shocked.

And here, Bruce glared at Wilson, who looked like he wanted, needed to pass out because Batman was pissed at him and he knew perfectly well why.

"His pain is real -- physical, emotional," Bruce said and Wilson paled still further. "It has a cause and it's your job to find it, not to cut him down for your own comfort. He thinks you're a boy scout, but remember -- you've lied to him and done so many times. You've lied to my son.

"You owe Tim more apologies than any one of us can count, but no one can make you give them to him. He's given up on the very idea, the very hope. And, furthermore, aside from Dr. Chase, none of you realize he doesn't owe you a thing. Not even you, Dr. Foreman."

They were all their usual selves again, everyone having split back apart. Tim glanced over to see Red Robin staring in something approximating grief. Without thinking, he reached over and grabbed Red Robin's hand. He, himself, gasped and then they squeezed one another's hands so hard, they melded together. Tim and Red Robin pressed together, blending once more.

Gregory House was just a name, he knew -- one he wore well, but just an alias.

"He has no reason to tell many of you the truth," they now said together and Tim felt his eyes widening. "You're going to have to earn it, but it might be too late."

Everyone he'd ever cared about was now standing around him, some of them smiling, some of them not, but who gave a damn -- they were _here_.

"Hi, Dad. Hi, Mom. I -- I was trying so hard, but I gave up and I'm so sorry." He wanted to hug them, but he couldn't move. He realized the Joker and Harley Quinn were gone now, but who the hell cared?

Red Robin was speaking through Tim's mouth now and he was too surprised to stop any of it. "My name is Timothy Drake -- though it would have been 'Wayne' eventually -- and I'll be the first to say it's never too late. I miss you, Bruce. I miss you, Dick. I miss you, Babs. I miss you, Bart. I miss you, Kon. I miss you, Anita. I miss you, Cissie. I miss you, Cassie. I miss you, Greta. I miss you, Cass. I miss everyone in Gotham -- hell, I miss Gotham, even when it was No Man's Land. I miss the best time of my life. You're all my heart and it's hurting so much. Help me get home. I have a feeling that's where I need to be right now.

"The first step is to stop me from bleeding to death, of course. I'll remind you, Cuddy and Wilson, my blood type is AB Negative. Have fun with that. Goodbye."

***

Tim woke up and the kids were hovering over him. They were rushing him down a hallway, saying, "House, it's going to be alright -- it's..." That was Cameron.

"Hello. My name is Timothy Drake."

***

Buffy woke up gasping, staring around her bedroom, knocking Mr. Gordo (she was thinking of renaming him Dr., but that wasn't important right now) to the floor. She snatched him up and concentrated on catching her breath.

It was strange how quickly she'd thought of it as hers now, but whatever.

She scrambled out of bed and out into the hall to find the house empty. Rather than yell, she simply abandoned those manners Butler!Guy had lectured Dad and Uncle Dick about and leapt down from the third floor railing all the way to the ground floor. Landing gracefully in a crouch and very _not_ breaking every bone in her body.

A group of people screamed and Buffy looked up from her crouch on the floor to find an outwardly calm Bruce and Cass, an astonished Barbara, who was wide-eyed in shock, and a guy in an actual _costume_, all of whom had been standing in the foyer, discussing something really serious, she would guess.

The guy in the costume managed to close his mouth and almost asked something, but thought the better of it in light of what was going on. It was obvious to Buffy that everyone knew what.

Ignoring their shock for a moment, Buffy straightened and immediately asked, "Bruce, what's wrong with Dad? I had another dream -- you guys were all in it. Dad's been -- "

"Shot," Bruce said heavily, sharply, his hands fisted at his sides, and Buffy stopped short, her own eyes widening in horror. "We're coordinating everyone going to see him. I was going to have Cass wake you up in a moment, but obviously that's unnecessary. Buffy, this is -- "

"Bart -- Dad didn't say your last name in my dream, just that he missed all of you _so much_."

Bart's eyes widened and he looked like he wanted to smile, but couldn't because whatever Tim said, he'd been _shot_ and was..._dying_...

"Yes, Bartholomew 'Impulse/The Flash' Allen, this is -- "

"Elizabeth Drake," Buf -- Elizabeth corrected and Bruce actually smiled, if only faintly. "Hi, Bart! I guess we're all _finally_ going to Princeton and that Bruce has, like, five planes or something -- "

Bart managed to muffle a snort, but Bruce, himself, was tempted to roll his eyes. "I have two."

Elizabeth muffled a grin of her own, "Oh, two. My apologies. Only _two_."

"Hi, Lizzie," Bart cut in, grinning widely and wishing that time didn't prevent him from giving her a hug for all she was worth, which was quite a lot, even if she (or Tim) didn't know it. _Lizzie_ grinned back before frowning.

"Okay, wait, nope -- " Buffy waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Lizzie Borden messed that up for all of us. Uh-uh. Find a new one."

Bart cackled and gave in, picking her up and swinging her around, relishing her laugh.

"You're both worse than Tim," Barbara admonished, but she looked relieved to have a distraction.

"Thank you!" Elizabeth said lightly. "Okay, now, we've gotta go, because Dad's probably in surgery or something by now and he and someone called Red Robin were arguing in my dream about something that was making him hurt a lot all over. He said they had to stop him from bleeding to death and that his blood type is AB Negative. I don't even know what mine is, to be honest, but there's got to be blood for Dad somewhere, right?"

Bruce was the first to recover from Buffy's own version of Willow-Babble (not that they knew that), but it was another voice that spoke up before he could.

"It's actually more difficult than you think," a new voice said from the nearby chair and Elizabeth turned to see Dick sitting there, pale, but with a small smile on his face. "AB Negative is the rarest in the world."

"Uncle Dick!" Buff -- Elizabeth, _God_, this name changing stuff was way more difficult than Dad made it look. She trounced over to him and gave him a once-over. He did the same to her. "Stop being a pessimist!"

"Dear God, Tim has spawned," were his first words directly to her.

"Shut up, we have two planes to catch," were hers -- well, not first, but just about -- to him. Though Elizabeth may or may not have stuck her tongue out at him, as well, to compensate.

"Can Bart, Wally, Kon, or Clark or somebody carry me to Princeton instead? I'm tired of being the one carrying everybody. Especially Giles -- he gets knocked out a lot."

Bruce actually muffled a real smile then and silently told everyone they'd explain on the way.

...TBC...


	6. Expedience

**Identity Crisis**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** DC and Dark Horse Comics, respectively; Heel and Toe; Warner Bros.; Whedon, et al. own all. Interpol. "Untitled.". Capitol, Parlophone, Matador, 2002.

**Summary:** Swimming in the shirt they'd given her, she looked as though she might fall apart if he looked at her with enough venom.

But something in him never wanted to.

**Notes:** Written with **marag**'s blessing; I got this idea and had to run with it, but you know the other stuff by now...

And I have an idea about Slayers and those allowed to remain with families or anything approaching them.

**Notes, continued:** And, hey, did I mention this is, like, _incredibly_ AU? I mention stuff from the original Buffy canon out of the original timeline, simply because I like the lines. Though they're most likely altered here to fit my purpose.

Also, 'C. diff' is Clostridium difficile, which is a bacterial strain that, in excessive amounts, overwhelms the intestinal tract and causes dehydration through vomiting and diarrhea, much like cholera (Vibrio cholerae), only not as quickly.

Hemochromatosis is an excess of iron in the blood, turning it into a thicker consistency than can easily navigate the blood vessels, causing pain and lack of oxygenation, among other horrid things.

Quote. Don't look at me, I just know stuff. Unquote.

**Timelines:** Buffy, (including the following comics) post-_Viva Las Buffy_, _Slayer, Interrupted_, and _A Stake to the Heart_; post-'Becoming, Part II';

General storyverse, post-Acquainted with the Night by **marag**, which is encompassed in its own wonderful universe where Gregory House was once our dear Timothy Drake...

House, M.D., 'No Reason' - AU after that.

Part V: Expedience

_...I will surprise you sometimes, I'll come around when you're down..._

Cameron paced back and forth, along with Chase, Wilson, and Cuddy, as they watched House being operated on from the theatre below. Only Foreman had managed to stay seated, though his frantic fidgeting with his hands was a clear tell of how nervous he really was.

Cameron spoke, for what must have been the twentieth or so time, asking the question that she hadn't been able to let go of since House's brief return to consciousness hours before.

"What on earth did he mean, 'My name is Tim Drake'? His name is Gregory House, it's on his medical degrees and everything!"

"He said 'Timothy', actually," Chase said absently, his eyes locked on the tableau before them.

"Fine, _Robert_!" Cameron snapped, momentarily halting her pacing to glare witheringly at him, but Chase ignored her.

It had taken everything in Wilson not to blurt out that House had known what he was talking about, not to admit to House's past. Not only would everyone - particularly Cuddy - feel betrayed and taken for fools, but they'd think he was crazy. House had suffered catastrophic damage and blood loss as a result of the gunshots that he'd taken. Wilson was perfectly healthy. It couldn't be excused, so he said nothing.

He'd tried calling Bruce Wayne several times, even having Cuddy call a few, but each time, they'd gotten nothing. Wilson only hoped Mr. Wayne wasn't out of the country or something.

Then there was House's blood type. House had told Wilson, himself, that he had no living relatives - certainly none of his own AB Negative - that they'd all either died or been murdered. Wilson had been distraught at the idea at the time, but now he was absolutely devastated.

His best friend was lying on an operating table, his carotid arteries dissected and hemorrhaging, say nothing of the effect everything that happened had had on his brain, heart, and kidneys - God, when they'd done the X-Rays, he and Cuddy had each stared in utter awe.

The state of House's blood vessels, ventricles, and arteries _before_ having been shot was...dear God...HOW DID HE MISS THIS?

That question kept circling his brain like a dog at a run and he couldn't look at Cuddy because he knew she felt even worse. She'd been his attending when he'd had the infarction, yet she'd failed to do something so simple as give him an X-Ray. Trying to remind her that by the point she'd taken over, they were just trying to keep House alive wasn't going to work, Wilson knew.

Cuddy didn't think there was any excuse, so she wasn't going to accept one. End of story.

He could hear her crying faintly beside him and somehow his arm was suddenly around her shoulder and then he was crying, too. Foreman, Chase, and Cameron were probably staring at them, but it didn't matter.

House - Tim was going to die, none of it mattered.

Bart was carrying Buffy while she was tucked in his arms to protect herself and her clothes from the force of the air around them. Buffy had gotten impatient, simply picking him out of what amounted to a lineup, and telling the rest of them they'd meet them all in Princeton.

He would have laughed if he didn't know she was the only way Tim would likely survive. Bruce had, by now, heard the messages Wilson had left in his office and was, no doubt, a wreck on the plane flying at a safe speed up in the air behind them. Bruce was blaming himself, they both could see, and no amount of persuasion was going to work.

The only thing Bruce would accept was Tim awake, his bright blue eyes on Bruce's face again. The only way to achieve that was to get Buffy to Tim's hospital as fast as meta-humanly possible. The details could be worked out later.

Once Dick had explained that Buffy likely had either A, B, or AB blood herself because Tim was her father, she'd jumped at the chance to give it to him.

A quick scan by both Clark and Kon (Buffy hadn't even flinched at the fact that she was supposedly meeting urban legends left and right) told them her Rhesus factor was Negative like Tim's own and perfectly - in fact, inhumanly clean.

She'd immediately started to cry and said they had to get to Princeton _now_ and _one of them_ was going to take her.

She wasn't going to lose her last chance at a parent who might actually accept her. Not that all of them, or even Tim, knew that.

It was a security guard who called up to the operating theatre and alerted Cuddy to the fact that man named Bart Allen and a girl named Elizabeth Drake were at the front desk, desperately asking about Dr. House and whether Elizabeth would be able to give him any blood. Cuddy didn't stop to think about how on earth any of it was possible, she simply dashed down and admitted them into the hospital, practically dragging Elizabeth up to Hematology and having her blood drawn and run through the usual checks for diseases.

She was absolutely shocked to find that it was not only AB Negative, but absolutely chock full of white and red blood cells that House was currently losing at a rate he couldn't afford, so much so that Cuddy was tempted to diagnose her on the spot with hemochromatosis.

Cuddy honestly couldn't understand how Elizabeth's blood seemed not to be hurting her at all. As it was, bloodletting that House _needed_ could only seem to help her, if Cuddy was correct.

She didn't stop to think about the fact that Elizabeth didn't even balk at having multiple needles in her arms at once, nor the sheer amount of blood they'd needed to take.

On the contrary, she kept up the same anxious expression the entire time, apparently more frustrated that she couldn't get any information about House's condition than the fact that they'd taken so much of her blood.

In fact, if it hadn't been for the fact that Cuddy had helped perform the draws and tests, herself, she wouldn't have believed it when Elizabeth just about growled in irritation when she found out she was going to be admitted and given multiple Ringer's Lactase drips to make up for what she'd just lost before trying to jump to her feet and find Dr. House, herself.

It had only been that Mr. Allen placing a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder and whispering something in her ear that had probably kept her from dashing from room to room, looking for House.

They admitted her for observation to make sure she would be alright, but in the meantime, the seven bags they'd taken from Elizabeth were rushed upstairs to Dr. House's operating table and promptly administered.

Cuddy didn't know whether to express gratitude or irritation at their mysterious (and slightly combative) guests, but gratitude won out when House started to respond as soon as Elizabeth's blood entered his body, practically jump-starting it almost like a car.

Immediately, he stabilized and, beyond all hope, was wheeled into the ICU (Elizabeth demanded that she be placed in the bed next to him if she was going to have to stay there. Cuddy didn't object given the amount of blood she'd lost) anesthetized, but completely alive and more well than they could have dreamed.

Bruce cursed his old age for the worst as he finally managed to walk back into Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and Drs. Wilson and Cuddy met them at the Clinic front desk just beyond the vestibule.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne, we have - " Cuddy could barely contain herself, but it was nothing compared to the astonishment that Wilson was displaying. " - Astonishingly good news for you. I - House is going to be just fine, it looks like."

Wilson tuned out after that. He, even if only privately, knew he was staring quite rudely (he couldn't help it) as not only Batman faced him, but both Supermen, Superwoman, Nightwing, they'd already met Impulse/Kid Flash - the original Flash (House had said something about _Wally_ retiring and his friend Bart taking over) was staring around impatiently - Green Arrow, Green Lantern...

God, it was a kid's dream right here in their lobby, there were so many heroes. Even the reformed Catwoman, if Tim's description was correct...and...oh, God, _Cass_ - er, Batgirl.

She'd kissed him at Bruce's birthday party and Wilson had to fight the fact that he knew he was blushing and getting hot all over again. House was more important than that, they all knew it.

But House's best friends stepped forward along with Bruce and Dick and Wilson asked that Cassie, Cass, Greta, Cissie, Anita, Kon, Bart, Bernard, and - of course - Dick and Bruce be given 24-hour passes (Wilson knew they'd probably rotate their timing) to see House and Elizabeth once they were moved to the ICU. They were debriefed about scrubbing up very well first, but Wilson had a feeling that little chat hadn't been necessary.

He turned and walked over to an elevator, stopping it midway up because he couldn't hold his cries of relief back any longer. House's family _was_ here and damn it, he was about to know it.

Finally, Wilson scrubbed in as though he were going into surgery himself, even scraping under his fingernails with the soap, hoping to God he didn't have C. diff or something lurking under them, and walked into the ICU to see House. Elizabeth was lying in the bed closest to him, but he could tell she'd somehow maneuvered her bed toward his.

The thought was cast out of his mind when he saw his best friend...alive.

He'd never felt so relieved to see House's face, no longer pale, even if his head and face were shaved and practically every inch of him was covered in stitches.

"I have to say," Elizabeth whispered, her eyes full of tears as she stared up at the bags of her blood that were still suspended over House's sedated body. "This wasn't exactly how I expected to meet my dad."

Wilson's eyes widened just as Bruce and Dick each came in, scrubbed and wearing sterile yellow paper gowns, themselves. Each of them were beaming at Elizabeth, apparently beyond words as they stared back and forth between House - Tim - and Elizabeth.

Wilson forced himself to take a breath as he watched Bruce lower himself into a chair and Dick stand behind it, pride obviously shining out of their eyes at Elizabeth, who - incredibly - was blushing.

"Uncle Dick, please help me convince Dad he doesn't owe me for this," Elizabeth said in a tiny voice, a complete contrast to the take-charge young woman who'd come storming into the hospital mere hours earlier.

"Good luck on that one, kiddo," Dick said quietly, biting back another grin. "He hates taking advantage of others, no matter how much he might need to, much less his _daughter_."

"But he didn't take advantage of me! I gave willingly! Now if I could just get my sugar cookie and my clothes back, we'd be just dandy!"

"Wait," Wilson cut in, unable to help it. "Wait - you're all saying - " Wilson caught himself and forced himself to whisper. "You're saying Elizabeth is his daughter?"

He looked back at the girl to see fresh tears cascading down her face (Oh, God...House's face...if you looked at it from the right angle. Maybe if he'd stayed in Gotham and not had the infarction or kidney problems...) as she gave a small wave.

"If it makes you feel any better, my friend Willow and I kind of broke the law to find out."

Bruce snorted and Wilson suddenly felt like laughing.

"I...yeah, that sounds like - " Wilson sighed and looked back at Bruce and Dick. "When House's team - if I were in a more jovial mood, I'd say they're like Elizabeth's siblings, practically - were rushing him to the ER for triage, he woke up and said, 'Hello. My name is Timothy Drake.' Cameron's been obsessing about it ever since."

"I to-o-o-old you," Elizabeth said in a softly mocking voice and Wilson looked back at her to see her faintly sticking her tongue out at Bruce and Dick, both of whom were grinning.

"Told them what?" Wilson asked before he could stop himself.

Elizabeth giggled, "I got this total damsel-in-distress vibe from Dr. Cameron in my dream - I mean, a lot of stuff happened, most of it involving Dad fighting and arguing with himself, uh, his younger self - "

"Robin," Wilson whispered and Elizabeth nodded before continuing.

"Yeah, and when you guys were all tied to these trees in what Bruce says are Gotham's Palisades, she totally wanted Dad to save her. I kept getting all these crush vibes. Dad's gotten pretty good at ignoring them, but they're obvious as all get out."

Wilson had to stop himself from snorting, blinking several times before everything else Elizabeth had said hit him. "Wait - you dreamed about this? You're one of - you're a 'caped crusader'?"

Elizabeth sighed, rolling her eyes, "Is that really what they call you guys? I mean, does _everyone know?_"

These questions were directed at Bruce and Dick, the latter of whom had rolled his eyes. "And Giles thought _I_ was bad at keeping a secret identity. I'll have you know, I was pissed when people found out. I thought there was a flashing sign on my back that said, 'Hi! I'm a Vampire Slayer, Ask Me How!' Seriously irritating!" she finished in a hiss, further aggrieved when Dick started laughing silently at her consternation.

He seemed to do that a lot, the jerk.

"Honestly, Dick," she hissed further. "_What_ is so funny about me and Dad? Between you and Bernard, I really want to get some punching practice in!"

Dick immediately stopped laughing then and Bruce, in turn, held back a snort.

"Dick is most likely laughing because you're both so incredibly alike," Bruce smiled softly, reaching forward, finally, to take her hand. He marveled that it was practically engulfed by his own, yet one twitch from her wrist would snap his arm in half. "He's rather impatient to get digs in at Tim."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes before looking at Wilson. "So. Now that Dad is out of mortal peril for the time being, my name is Elizabeth Drake - though, legally, it's Buffy Summers. Hank Summers was my stepdad until he and my mother got divorced. Joyce Jamison Summers was my mother until she threw me out earlier this week. So I came to find Dad.

"Like I said, Willow - she's my best friend and I really need to find a computer so I can email her and tell her I'm not dead because she and Xander and Giles are probably all worried. If they've gone to talk to my mom, Giles probably got her to tell them that she threw me out. Willow probably figured everything out five seconds later, though she won't tell Giles or Xander because they'll try to guilt me back into going to Sunnydale if I know them, and I _do_. I'm not going. Wow. This full disclosure stuff gets easier every time. Imagine that."

Wilson blinked at this impressive display of lung function from someone who just had what had to be the safest possible amount of blood to possibly drain from her body taken out. She should be completely winded, if not knocked out altogether. But she said something about being a Vampire Slayer. But, more importantly - oddly - she'd left Sunnydale, wherever that was, to come find Ho - Tim. He was 'Tim' to all of these people and Wilson would try to think of him that way right now, especially given the fact that he'd woken up saying his own name.

But people would pass that off as House having been delirious. Except Cameron. Oh, dear God. _Cameron_. She was going to try to bug Hou - Tim about it as soon as he woke up.

Wilson sighed irritably, "Okay. To everything you just said, okay, but something else that's more pertinent at the moment is that House woke up saying 'Hello, my name is Timothy Drake' while he was being taken down to triage. Now, we're the only ones who know what that means, but Cameron - Dr. Cameron, she's..."

"Got that crush on Dad and she's not going to let his real name be put down to blood-loss hallucinations or anything else ever so convenient?" Elizabeth asked pointedly and Wilson nodded miserably.

To his surprise, Elizabeth smiled. "It doesn't matter, really. From everything I saw, Dad's ready to be himself - his whole self again. Which is good because I need to find my whole self and I'll need his help. I don't want to hide anymore and if there's anywhere I don't have to, it's Gotham - or Metropolis or anywhere else these guys hang out. With Dad's family and friends flying and running around all the time, I'll look downright inconspicuous."

And here she stuck her tongue out at Dick again, who made a face back despite being at least three times her age. Elizabeth bit back a grin.

"But he said he wanted to go home, Dr. Wilson. At least for now. That he needed to. And he's sick, right? So he can't stay here, he'd hate it. If he's so close to this place and unable to work, what do you think that'll do to him?"

Wilson paled at the thought, "He'd be a basketcase. No, no, I understand. Don't worry, he's got _years_ of vacation and sick time saved up. With Cuddy's help, he should get all of it even if not all of it would be paid."

"I've told Tim there's nothing I wouldn't do for him and I've meant every word of it," Bruce affirmed and then he looked back at Buffy again. "Though, you might have to move to a different room, unfortunately, if Tim's just that picky, though I really don't think you'll have to worry about it. He picked a new one when he stayed last."

Elizabeth stared at Bruce for a moment before saying in a tone Wilson couldn't decipher, "I've been sleeping in Dad's old room, haven't I?"

Bruce's smile was all the answer he would give. Elizabeth looked away again, blushing once more, tears trailing down her unnaturally rosy cheeks.

Tim found once again that everything hurt. Not exactly a new experience, but infinitely more unwelcome. He moaned, feeling the back of his head protest at any movement and, instantly, there were hands arresting him and gentle voices telling him things he couldn't understand.

He moaned again, harder this time - trying to reach everywhere, anywhere to assuage the dull, hard throbbing all over. But he couldn't and it was just agonizing.

"It's okay, Dr. House," someone was telling him from far away. "It looks like the Fentanyl isn't binding to your cells, so we'll try more morphine..."

Then there was glorious relief flooding everywhere through him and for the first time in so long, it didn't hurt to be Gregory House or Timothy Drake or anyone...it didn't hurt.

Slowly, Tim managed to open his eyes to find Bruce, Dick, and Wilson staring intently at him, the joy in their faces making him uncomfortable. He tried to turn away from it, but he couldn't.

Wilson frowned slightly, "Sorry, House, but your neck is in a brace for the time being. Your carotids have bruits in them - the first bullet tore one of them and the other was ripped in the fall you took.

"Um...not to mention, we're giving you fluids to keep the pressure in your kidneys from tanking again - you started to go into multi-system f-failure on the table, a-apparently. Your ventricles dissected after the trauma from being shot caused aneurysms to form in your brain and then those ruptured...you had about four or five tiny strokes.

"Your left pupil is blown, as you'll probably see when we can finally set you on your feet again. It'll take a while for that to recede...if - if it does. But the damage to your heart wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been, either - everything was either minimal or reversible. And - Elizabeth, here, gave you AB Negative blood to replace what you kept losing. She was quite insistent upon it, actually. Not surprising, though I guess you'll find out why eventually. But Cuddy's kicking herself because it's safe to say you have Fibromuscular Displaysia and have all your life."

Tim frowned, blinking at the ceiling irritably, unable to focus (he didn't really care what Wilson was saying, either, but couldn't say as much) as Dick, Bruce, and Wilson's faces danced before him and he wondered why he didn't feel like vomiting.

He didn't try talking. He honestly didn't feel like it, he was so tired. But then a girl was standing over his bed, herself clad in scrubs, biting her lip so hard Tim was confused as to why it hadn't broken yet. Her hair was brownish-blonde (he could see that it had been dyed - her now-showing roots were black, like his own), her eyes hazel, and she was so tiny. Swimming in the shirt they'd given her, she looked as though she might fall apart if he looked at her with enough venom.

But something in him never wanted to.

_I guess I'll have to count on her, then..._

Tim tried to speak, this time, and found that his throat was clogged with something. He could feel the nasogastric tube taped to his face and wondered if there was blood in his throat. He tried to shift, but couldn't move anything.

Guessing what he wanted, Tim supposed, the girl came closer. She really was crying now and Tim could see bandages on both of her arms where they'd taken her blood. The girl took his cold hand in her warm ones and leaned down, holding back a sob as she whispered in his ear, "Hi, Dad."

...TBC...


	7. Belief

**Identity Crisis**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** DC and Dark Horse Comics, respectively; Heel and Toe; Warner Bros.; Whedon, et al. own all. Interpol. "The Scale.". Capitol, Parlophone, Matador, 2007.

**Summary:** "Timothy Drake, if this girl is your daughter -- and I think she most certainly is -- do you really think she could have been stopped? She saved your life, she was insistent upon it -- by all accounts, you're the only parent she has left. She wants you for her family and if you complain, the second you can take it, I'm going to knock you stupid."

**Notes:** Written with **Mara Greengrass**' blessing; I got this idea and had to run with it, but you know the other stuff by now...

Unit 731 was a front for the biological torture and inhumane experimentation on human subjects by the Japanese Imperial Army during World War II.

**Timelines:** Batman: post-'Heart of Hush'; Buffy, (including the following comics) post-_Viva Las Buffy_, _Slayer, Interrupted_, and _A Stake to the Heart_; post-'Becoming, Part II';

General storyverse, post-Acquainted with the Night by **Mara Greengrass**, which is encompassed in its own wonderful universe where Gregory House was once our dear Timothy Drake...

House, M.D., 'No Reason' -- AU after that.

Part VI: Belief

Tim blinked upward, halfway expecting that he was hallucinating again, but -- he had said that he'd needed to depend on a girl and everything in him said that she was it. He was surprised by the state of her hands, the hardness and calluses on her palms. He wondered who the hell she'd ever had to fight and when he could kick their ass in revenge.

Elizabeth sighed and gripped her father's hand more tightly, ignoring the fact that Dr. Wilson was maneuvering her back onto her bed. She wasn't letting him go no matter what anyone here wanted. Reluctantly, Buffy huffed and sat down on her bed, leaning forward so that her hand didn't leave her dad's.

"You have black hair," Dr. Wilson said suddenly, staring back and forth between herself and Dad. Buffy was tempted to kick Dr. Wilson in the side. "Well, yes. I'm sure you noticed my dye job -- and Dad's, it seems, fading...I was going to touch up my roots last week, but -- again -- to hell with it."

Dr. Wilson dithered, "I -- I mean...God, House, you have black hair. I thought it was brown all this time. _It's been brown all this time._ That was dye?"

Buffy tried her hardest not to roll her eyes again. Really, honest, she did.

Bruce was smiling again. "Tim has black hair and blue eyes, yes. It seems that Elizabeth has black hair like him, but inherited her mother's eyes. I'm told that's how genealogy _usually_ works, with the child inheriting their eye and hair color from the opposite parent regarding whichever trait -- with the exception of homozygous genes."

Wilson was going to reply, he really was. But then Buffy leaned over and ran her hand over her scalp, revealing jet black hair at her roots, which were now almost an inch and a half long. "If I felt like the hassle, I'd go all G.I. Jane and just lop it all off. It's not like I need to fit in anymore. But, seriously -- " And here she adopted a thoughtful pose and looked over at Bruce. "Think I should get a pair of fake glasses?"

Bruce snorted. "I doubt that'll be necessary, Elizabeth. Though, again, as I said earlier, Cassie, Greta, and Anita -- Selina, as well, as a matter of fact -- would love to take you shopping."

Elizabeth grinned wickedly, stage-whispering, "Selina's _your girlfriend_, isn't she?"

At Dick's hastily stifled cackle, she had her answer. "Yay, a Grammy!"

Elizabeth glanced back at Bruce to find him instead staring at Dad, who was now staring at Bruce while trying to keep his eyes open. "Dad, sleep. Everybody wants you all spry and complaining when they come see you tomorrow. Clark, Bart, and Kon looked _really_ worried."

Tim tried really hard to look like he didn't care, was annoyed even, but the morphine was making him too sleepy to even look at Bruce in any expression other than exhausted blankness. He was asleep before he realized Bruce had lay a hand on his shoulder and given it a soft squeeze.

Bernard, Bart, Kon, and Cass were grouped around Tim's bed the next time he regained consciousness. Buffy had been discharged only an hour before but was taken shopping for clothing before she could protest leaving her father's side.

They left that extremely important task up to Cassie, Greta, Anita, and Selina, all of whom had taken to her like they'd known her forever. Or so said the letter Wilson had made certain to read aloud to Tim as he regained enough awareness to realize he wasn't hungry.

It was only then that he'd peeked underneath his blankets and sheets to find not only a catheter but a PICC line, leaving him rather annoyed he wouldn't get any solid food, but also glad he wouldn't have to worry about vomit anymore.

He hadn't said anything, but he figured they'd all realized it once he was laid in his bed and the scale told them how much weight he'd managed to lose.

Cass walked up to his bed and ran a hand over his hair before giving him a sisterly kiss on his temple. _I love you_, she hadn't had to say.

It was clear in every facet of her bearing and he hated himself for forcing himself not to see it.

Bart, Bernard, and Kon were even worse. He wanted to apologize for...everything, but he still couldn't talk. His voice was far too raw.

"Don't talk," Bart said lightly but with a definite scolding tone. "They said they accidentally scraped the back of your throat. They actually suctioned out your nose earlier because it kept getting blocked shut with blood. Elizabeth -- that's your daughter, by the way -- kept getting freaked out, so the girls and Selina distracted her with clothes. Imagine that -- your daughter likes shopping. You _hate_ it."

Tim wanted to be annoyed at the fact that everyone was acting like the fact that he'd snatched a daughter out of thin air was _okay_.

Tim let his eyes drift up to the ceiling before thinking of something. He looked over at Cass, hoping she'd figure out what he was trying to say.

"Behave," she told him again. "No Batarangs."

Tim scowled. He wasn't going to _throw_ it at anyone. He...God, how to explain what he felt. He tried his hardest to make a fist with his right hand, but failed, so he tried with his left and managed to rub his fingers together.

Cass gave him a comforting smile. "Weapon, not teddy bear." Tim pointedly ignored Kon forcing himself not to laugh aloud but was satisfied when Cass, Bernard, and Bart glared him into submission.

Sighing in acquiescence, Cass reached into her bag and pulled one of the plastic prototypes she had been working on improving with Bruce and Dick before handing it to Tim, who stared at it half in awe, half in irritation at it not being the real thing.

"Come on, Tim, would Cass be able to get the real thing through the metal detectors Dr. Cuddy's had installed over the past two days?"

Tim stared in awe. It had been two days? Cuddy had installed _metal detectors_? He thought that was kind of paranoid, even for her.

He blinked. His face crumpled before he could stop it and he was crying but he didn't know why.

Grappling and fumbling clumsily, Tim tried to ask for his chart, but since his eyes were completely blurred and his hands were largely out of his control, it was very difficult.

Eventually, he managed to gesture toward the end of the bed and Bart dashed down toward it, picking up his chart and showing it to Tim, who gasped through his tears and was able to nod, if only slightly.

Bart handed the chart to him while Cass wiped his face, ignoring his growls in protest. He'd had a minor heart attack, four minor strokes, and the diagnosis of Fibromuscular Dysplasia, which accounted -- it seemed for the mysterious pains he'd suffered in places other than his leg. His arteries were all but mangled.

He felt more tears sliding down his face. There was an answer? Everything...God, there was an answer? He breathed out, coughing on the mucus gathering inside him.

"I'll get you a nurse," Kon muttered, still not sparing himself or Tim running his hand over Tim's shaved scalp.

"We love you," the jackass who'd put Tim to shame in all the time they'd known one another in regard to joking (not that Kon knew that) whispered before striding quickly out the door to take care of him. Tim clamped his eyes shut, but the tears still came.

Tim took as deep a breath as he was able, managing to lift his left arm and make a thumbs-up before pointing at himself and then dragging his hand painstakingly across his neck.

_Why?_ He asked, frowning lopsidedly at Bart, who watched him closely, trying discern what Tim was miming.

"Why aren't you dead?" Bart guessed and Tim relaxed. Bart chuckled, running his hand through his own familiarly chin-length hair. "Well, uh, Tim...have you ever heard of the Vampire Slayer?"

Tim frowned again, his gaze drawn inadvertently toward the door when Kon returned with a nurse, who asked him how he was feeling before talking his vitals and generally acting as though he could talk. It would have annoyed Tim if he'd had the energy.

When she'd finished clearing out his nasal passages and administered a new morphine drip she left them again and Tim tried to pull his face into an approximation of his usual thinking pose, but failed utterly.

Bart, Kon, and Cass stayed silent, waiting for the fact of the matter to hit him like it always did, albeit more slowly this time.

_Oh...my God_, Tim mouthed with difficulty, his left eye widening in horror and amazement. _My..._ he forced himself to mouth her name, each syllable coming independently of the others. _El...iz..a...beth? Sl...a...yer?_

His friends all nodded, unsure as to how to feel.

***

Summers Home  
1630 Revello Drive  
Sunnydale, California  
8:19 pm

Joyce knew it was her fault, that she'd driven Buffy away, she knew that she was the adult in this situation and Buffy her child, but something in her couldn't help being angry and she wasn't sure why.

It wasn't like with Hank or Tim. She'd given Buffy an ultimatum and assumed that Buffy's sense of allegiance to their small family would keep her in Sunnydale, here at home.

But Joyce had been wrong.

And Buffy had never been safe or sound, not for years.

And Joyce had merely turned a blind eye.

She didn't know how to think of it. All those years in Gotham, her family's run-ins with Batman and his crew...Joyce had firmly decided she hadn't wanted to be a part of that.

Part of the reason she'd fallen in love with Tim Drake in the first place had been because he wasn't part of that -- all the fighting and money-laundering and corruption.

He'd been just a normal boy with the normal life she'd so desperately wanted. But then he'd disappeared and Joyce hadn't had much of a choice.

She'd been pregnant by then -- she'd never told Tim, hadn't even considered it.

Her father had pressured her to abort the child, but Joyce had refused. And so she'd disappeared, too. And now, she supposed, her rashness was the piper getting paid because she'd lost her family, her child anyway.

Joyce lowered her undrunk cup of tea and continued to stare outside at the night sky, hoping against hope that when she finally went upstairs, Buffy might be tucked in her bed, asleep -- covers askew as usual, but...there.

And she wouldn't have made the biggest mistake of her life.

***

Rosenberg Residence  
WIllow's Bedroom  
11:12 pm

Willow had endeavored to fight back tears as Oz lowered her carefully into her computer chair at home, finally, once she'd been released from the hospital after everything that had gone on.

The first thing she did was check her email, Oz's hand clutched in hers, him willingly riding out the hard gripping of her hand on his when the pain decided nice shards of invisible _glass_ should pop up to stick her sides and other places every now and then.

She scrolled through the usual nonsense, deleting spam, and then her mouth fell open to find an email from Giles, of all people, marked **EMERGENCY!!!!!!!!**

Okay, um, emergency aside, she was going to have to teach him about surpluses of exclamatory punctuation and CAPSLOCK and how rude that was and -- but then she opened the email and saw Giles' carefully plucked out, yet typo-ridden spiel about how Buffy was missing and needing herself, Oz, Xander, and Cordelia to help find her as fast as possible.

The fact that he was even willing to USE a computer spoke to how upset and worried he was. Giles had gone over to Angelus' mansion to find no one there, just the statue of the monster Acathla with the sword removed. His greatest fear, Giles had typed, was that not only had Angelus been sucked into Acathla's mouth, but Buffy, as well.

Willow sighed. Now that she thought about it, she thinks she and Buffy really should have told Giles about Buffy's biological father and her wanting to know more about him. It probably would have saved her the trouble of needing to ask Oz to pick up her phone and hand it to her now so she could call Buffy's mom and see if she was there first.

"Oz," Willow sighed, upset but too tired and in too much pain to do anything about it, asked and her boyfriend immediately kissed her temple.

"You need something?"

"I need my bed," Willow admitted reluctantly. Oz picked her up as gently as he could and transferred her to her bed, tucking the covers around her. If Willow hadn't been so preoccupied, she would have kissed him. "And the phone. I need to call Buffy's mom and then Giles after I check something out."

Oz nodded and handed her the phone. Willow dialed Buffy's home number as fast as she could and was greeted with a harried Joyce Summers.

"He -- um, n-no, Mrs. Summers, Buffy isn't here. I -- you...you...Oh, my God."

Willow placed a hand over Joyce's frantic explanation and, her eyes wide, told Oz, "Mrs. Summers kicked Buffy out a few days ago when she went to go fight Angelus. If Giles hasn't seen her since and thinks she's dead, then she hasn't spoken to either of them. I have..."

Willow breathed like Buffy and Xander had taught her to, then continued, mildly bothered by Oz's affectionate smile. She was tempted to stick her tongue out just to see him smile back but she hurt too much and Buffy -- well, she had a suspicion where Buffy was.

"Um, okay, Mrs. Summers? Buffy's not here, but I'll tell Mr. Giles and Xander and we'll start looking for her."

Willow nodded to Oz and opened a notepad file before typing, _BUFFY WENT TO FIND HER REAL FATHER. WE RESEARCHED HIM A FEW MONTHS AGO. IF SHE STOPPED ANGELUS AFTER HE GOT HIS SOUL BACK, THEN SHE WOULDN'T HAVE STAYED HERE, ESPECIALLY AFTER HER MOM THREW HER OUT. SHE'S EITHER IN PRINCETON OR GOTHAM CITY. DON'T TELL GILES OR XANDER, PLEASE?_

"Huh," was Oz's only response.

***

The next time Tim awoke, he found Selina Kyle giving him a small smile. "I remember you used to hold your own when we fought. I have to say, you were brilliant."

Tim winced, sighing as he tried to open his eyes further. "I...co-ould-nn't..." It was so difficult to talk with one side of his mouth out of commission, but he forced himself to. "Sa-aaay t-t-the s-s-sa-m-m-e."

Selina nodded, seemingly getting at what he was talking about. "Crazy Cat Lady, why thank you."

Tim felt a burst of air leave him in a pitiful imitation of a laugh, but Selina's own rich laughter more than made up for it.

Then she gave Tim's hand a small squeeze. "I suppose you're just dying to make a stepmother joke. Then again, you've had one already, haven't you?"

Tim wanted to frown, he really did, but at the same time, he knew she didn't mean any harm. It was the truth, after all.

And if there was anything anyone in Gotham treasured, it was the truth. There was so little of it, after all.

Tim sighed and continued to watch her, unable to do much else. Selina stretched, though, in that undeniably feline way she couldn't seem to ever shake, and then gave him a smile. "Did I tell you I had a run-in with Hush while you were gone?"

Tim's eyes widened, his heart monitor beeping wildly and Selina blinked before taking hold of his hand and rubbing it in a circular motion until he'd calmed back down.

"Sorry, sorry -- I forgot. You and Bruce, the two of you always worried that Hush is going to come after one of you. Look, I'll give it to you straight: it was hard, it was a tough fight -- bastard actually stole my heart and forced Bruce to find it before I died, _but_ before you have another episode, obviously things turned out alright.

"Even better news: I took every cent that son of a bitch had. Every. Last. Godforsaken. Penny. Wherever he washed up after he hit his head on the Batplane, he's got nothing. And true to that, we haven't seen or

heard from him since. It's been nearly two decades, Robbie."

Tim wanted to sigh at Selina choosing now to implement him with a nickname for his alias, but discarded it in favor of letting her finish. "I wish I could say we saw him dead with our own eyes, because God knows Bruce deserves not to have to worry about that bastard anymore. He worries most about Hush getting to _you_. You were the last thing Bruce had that Hush hadn't, you know. But, I suppose that since you're coming home -- or so Elizabeth says -- and speaking of which, someone was naughty and forgot what a condom was...but anyway, since you're coming home, Bruce can keep both eyes on you and his heart thanks you for it."

Tim scowled as best as he could before narrowing his eyes, "W-whe-n-n d-d-d-i-id s-s-sh -- "

Selina nodded, taking a guess as to what he was asking, and giving Tim's hand another rub. "Bruce says Elizabeth, though in California they apparently know her as Buffy -- her mother changed her name so that she'd fit in better -- got to Gotham almost a week ago. Apparently, her mother threw her out."

"S-s-sl-a-y-yer," Tim gasped, beginning to run out of breath and Selina frowned, rubbing his chest. "Okay, stop. You need to breathe right now. She'll be back, for one, and two, she had Bruce debrief us all on the plane ride here. Yes, the Vampire Slayer is not a myth, yes, your daughter was Chosen.

"She also wants to take your surname since her mother disowned her for what she couldn't handle and her stepfather hasn't seen fit to live up to the title in quite a while. She doesn't want that name anymore. She wanted to know if that was okay with you, since you'd changed your own name when you were hiding from everyone. She said 'Buffy House' is tacky, whereas 'Elizabeth Drake' sounds so much better."

Tim blinked, not quite sure what to say -- or try to anyway. Finally, he breathed again and something occurred to him, "Wh -- "

"Why am I telling you all this and not her?" Tim nodded as succinctly as he could and Selina raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Bart and Kon took her to the cafeteria a while ago, but haven't been seen since. This was apparently on Bernard's instruction because she hasn't eaten solid food since before we got here and since she gave you tons of her blood, apparently -- " Selina silenced Tim's burgeoning objection with a finger.

"Timothy Drake, if this girl is your daughter -- and I think she most certainly is -- do you really think she could have been stopped? She saved your life, she was insistent upon it -- by all accounts, you're the only parent she has left. She wants you for her family and if you complain, the second you can take it, I'm going to knock you stupid."

Selina exhaled delicately. "As for her eating habits, Bruce and Bernard both say she really puts you to shame. Maybe it's the fact that she's your daughter, maybe it's the fact that she's a Slayer, but the girl eats more in one sitting than I do in three. She said her Watcher used to supply her with food because she couldn't just eat her mother out of house and home and apparently the Watcher's Council keeps a budget for the Slayer's grocery bill or what have you.

"Though, according to Buffy, she's extremely annoyed that they don't also have one for her ruined clothes." And here Selina grinned and cackled aloud. "Do you know how much your daughter loves shopping? Because I know how much you don't!"

Tim scowled crookedly again, but Selina ignored it only gazing down at him with her cat-like eyes and giving him a fond smile.

"The point is that yes, she gave you her blood, which is the only reason you're not dead, according to every nurse and doctor in this place who really don't know how to shut up about you. Your reputation's worse than mine!"

Selina snorted and Tim would have rolled his eyes if he could have.

He frowned, "P-p-a-p -- "

Selina nodded and jumped up, grabbing a dry erase board and handing it to Tim, who managed to scrawl semi-legibly, **_They're dicks. Non sequitor, not intended. I want to talk to Elizabeth, but first I want to try something. It has to do with her blood and what it's done to me._**

**_I need to see something and I need you to follow my instructions to the letter or you'll get thrown out of here and I'll get slapped into restraints. Plus, I think you owe me a few favors,_ Catwoman.**

Selina rolled her eyes, but nodded, carefully shutting the door and closing the blinds.

**_Good. Now. Go to that cabinet and remove the following things: cotton balls, bandage wrap, alcohol swabs, and an IV kit._**

Tim," Selina said hesitantly, but he frowned and rolled his eyes.

**_Fine, damn it._**

He erased the whiteboard one last time before using his weakest hand to grip it and throw it onto the floor. Trying not to be too astonished with this initial success, Tim reached up, peeled back the medical tape, clasped the butterfly wings and pulled the needle out of his hand.

Using his blanket to staunch the flow of blood, Tim gasped, immediately feeling the morphine flood out of his body with the blood that was leaving him.

"Tim," Selina said again, but this time more urgently. Tim tried to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head as for the briefest of moments fiery pain engulfed him before it was just...gone.

The heart monitor, which he'd purposely left on his index finger had begun beeping wildly and he could hear a code being called in front of his door.

Suddenly, though, his heart stabilized as if on a dime into normal sinus rhythm and where it had crashed into the tens, it was suddenly back up to a normal supine beat of 78 beats per minute.

Within moments, Foreman, Chase, Cameron, Cuddy, Wilson, and at least three nurses were crashing into his room, forming a bottleneck until Selina, who'd regained her sense of calm pushed them all backward and they entered one at a time.

"Oh, my God," Wilson said, glancing back and forth between Tim, Selina, and the blood on Tim's blankets and sheets.

"God, House, what the hell did you think you were doing?" Cuddy asked, running over to the pulse oximeter and clipping it onto a different finger only to get the same reading.

Foreman was busy printing the readout of Tim's heart monitor while Cameron was fussing with the nurses and getting his sheets and scrubs changed.

Finally, after everything had calmed down -- relatively, Bruce, Dick, Elizabeth, Bart, Kon, and Bernard had all appeared in the doorway and when Cuddy went to close the blinds, Tim yelled, "Don't do that!"

***

_One Day Prior..._

Xander frowned as he got a busy signal at Willow's yet again. It was the third time today alone. He hadn't been able to reach her for three days straight and it was worrying him. She had only just gotten out of the hospital, after all.

His father had commandeered him, all of a sudden, to clean out the garage and he was trying to do it as fast as possible, but still managed to take short breaks to call Wills and at least see what was the what.

"Xander, where are you, I need yourself and Willow to drop whatever you're doing and get h-here promptly," Giles said in his 'oh, my God, the world may end' slight stammer.

Xander sighed before scowling deeply at the garage around him. "Well, unfortunately, Tony's decided that today of all days is the one where if I don't clean the garage, it's my ass. So unless it's world saveage, even the fact that I can't get a hold of Willow or Buffy missing has to be postponed because I can't do very much with my ass in a sling, now can I?"

Xander heard Giles swear on the other line and was rather impressed, "Wow. That's a new one -- well, I mean, not a new one, but a 'wow, Giles hasn't used those letters in quite that particular combo before."

"Xander, the billionaire Bruce Wayne is apparently preparing to buy the mansion on Crawford Street and that includes everything inside it. Can you think of _anything_ we might not want falling into an innocent civilian's hands?"

Xander frowned, "Yeah, I can, and I'll just chalk your slightly patronizing tone -- " Xander slammed a box of crap down on the ground before stacking another on top of it, lest Tony decide that he wasn't working hard enough.

He hated to use the Hyena to his advantage or even his disadvantage, but Tony was a drunk and forgot things pretty easily. And Giles, well, Giles just didn't know the Hyena was still there at all. Xander'd rather that, well, a lot of things, really, about him and his head stayed a secret. Probably less hypocritical that way.

"Down to stress and just say I'll be there as fast as I possibly can."

Giles exhaled sharply and then they said their goodbyes. Xander reigned in the urge to hurl a particularly heavy box at the far wall on the emptiest side of the garage and just kept working. At least this crap wasn't too heavy anymore.

***

Buffy had excused herself from the decimated smorgasbord Bruce had bought her to make up for missing six meals and having a gallon of blood drained in the meantime.

Finally feeling full after two whole days, Buffy had felt her cell phone vibrate and checked the caller ID.

She'd been ignoring most of her calls and deleting the by and large majority of her voicemails because she knew they were from either her mother, calling to say she didn't _really_ mean it, or Giles wondering where she'd run off to and why she would so suddenly abandon her duty as a Slayer.

If he honestly didn't know, then she wasn't going to spell it out for him. _Elizabeth._

Elizabeth froze and exhaled slowly. It was amazing how just thinking about California made her think of herself as who she used to be.

But she wasn't going to be that person anymore. The Slayer, yes, Buffy Summers, no. As far as she was concerned, Buffy Summers died --

Elizabeth forced that thought to stop in its tracks.

There was no way she was going to break down, certainly not in the middle of a hospital lobby surrounded by near strangers, even if the ones closest to her both in range and potential alliance and friendship meant her no harm.

Elizabeth shut her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to concentrate. She'd missed the call and looked down at the screen, seeing it was

Willow that had called -- though it was possible that one of the others had used her phone for whatever reason. _Enough_, Elizabeth ordered herself, flipping her phone open and listening to Willow's message to find it really was her.

Slightly heartened, Buffy actually bothered to return the call, apparently finding Willow to be at home and out of the hospital. "Hello, Willow," she said as calmly as she could, pushing the burgeoning anger she felt down for the time being.

"BUFFY! HI, I -- Oz and I have been so worried! When your mom called me saying she'd kicked you out, I mean, I had -- Buffy, where are you?"

Elizabeth found it slightly odd that Willow would say that she and Oz had been the worried ones. Not a word about Xander or Giles.

"Princeton, New Jersey," she forced herself to say calmly, listening to Willow's response. Surprisingly, for a moment, there wasn't one.

"Willow?"

"...You found him, didn't you?"

Elizabeth considered telling a half-truth but didn't see the point and, anyway, it seemed that the utter honesty in the family embracing her was starting to rub off.

"I did. I had a dream, some guy walked into his office and shot him and then he fought with himself about what he really wanted. He wanted to see the man he considers his father in every way but blood. He wanted to see his foster brother and I guess he wanted to see me because his younger self definitely said I wanted to see him."

"Which was true," Willow said quietly, her breathing labored, and Elizabeth could tell she was in pain but trying to keep from taking anything so she could talk to her. She did appreciate the gesture.

"Yes, it turned out to be true. He's really banged up and they even checked me over for a bunch of stuff because I gave so much blood to him and I guess it was like giving a car a jump because they keep saying he would have died..."

_No, not that conversation, either!_

Elizabeth forced herself to breathe and then changed the topic. "So, how are you? You seem a lot better, what with the whole not being in the hospital anymore thing."

"Yeah, I -- they released me yesterday. Oz is here taking care of me. Buffy...did Xander make it in time?"

And here Elizabeth couldn't hold in the venom in her voice as she snapped, "Why so he could tell me what you said -- I believe it was something along the lines of _'kick his ass'_?"

Dead silence on the other end.

"Hello?" Elizabeth snapped and when Willow answered, she was crying, "I didn't...I didn't say that. I never...I would _never_ say that..."

And suddenly Elizabeth froze, her eyes wide, Xander's gasping voice echoing in her mind.

"What did you say?" she asked calmly, after waiting for Willow's quiet sobs to abate.

"I-I t-t-told him to t-tell you I was -- I was tr-trying the sp-spell again," Willow whispered, her voice heavy with grief. "He l-l-lied t-to you."

Elizabeth took a deep breath, "Yeah, Wills, he did. I-I'm sorry -- you wouldn't say anything like that. I should have...God, you wouldn't..." She took another deep breath. "But _he_ would."

Elizabeth then said flatly, "Between you and I, who here can think of any reasons as to why Xander would do something like that? Get me to...my boyfriend, my -- God, Will, I never got to tell you. On my birthday, Angel gave me a ring that basically symbolizes marriage for his people. Well, I mean, the Celtic Irish, but his people. His ancestors."

Elizabeth did another of the deep breathing exercises Cass had made her do when she got upset because they wouldn't let her see her dad again so soon because it _meant too much movement after losing so much blood_.

Shoving the resentful expression off her face, Buffy continued, "He gave me a wedding ring."

Carefully holding the phone away from her sensitive ears, Buffy listened to Willow's happy shriek and hoped she didn't dislocate something in the process. Then reality set back in and Willow started to cry once more. "Oh, my God, Buffy...Xander, he..."

Elizabeth bit her own lip and echoed Willow's words in a deadened voice, "Yeah, Will. Oh, my God. And, before that, my mother kicked me out.

I...I didn't know I still had anyone to say goodbye to. I'm so sorry," she offered, a tear finally falling down and she wiped it away.

"But I found him -- my dad -- well, I went to Gotham first. It turns out my dad's _foster_ dad still lives there and all his friends from when he was a kid. God, there's so many of them and they adore him, you come here to Princeton and everyone says he's a complete troll."

"Not a Snyder!troll, right -- like, a good troll, like with jewels in their bellies?" Willow asked and Elizabeth laughed for the first time in months.

"Nope, the under the bridge kind. Uncle Dick -- um, my dad's older foster brother -- he says it's a façade. Dad wanted them to leave him alone so that no one back home could find him."

She could just hear Willow's brow furrowing and then, "Well, why? I mean, he's -- "

"Exactly like me in more ways than I could possibly explain over the phone? Yeah. Long story. But everything's cool now, with them, I think. Dad looked really...he was happy to see them."

"That's good," Willow said tiredly and Elizabeth wanted to let her sleep, too.

"I should let you rest. Oh, hey, Will -- what's the Hebrew form of Elizabeth?"

After a few moments, Willow's tired voice said, "Elišéva," before yawning. "Sorry, I took my meds while we were talking and I...I think they come get me before...I'm ready, on purpose. Why?"

Elizabeth sighed, "I'll let you know when you're sober and once I've figured it out. I've got to think some more. Just...you remember my birth certificate?"

"Mm-hmm," Willow said fuzzily and Elizabeth forced herself not to smile. "I'm going by that now. I'll remind you when you're conscious and of this world again."

"Mm'kay. 'M glad you're okay, Blizabeth..."

Elizabeth couldn't help giggling as she hung up.

Turning back to everyone she rolled her eyes, "Okay, I know you bunch of stalkers were listening. That was my best friend whom I'm totally happy to be wrong about. Now who wants to help me sneak up to Dad's room?" she asked more quietly and immediately Dick raised his hand.

Elizabeth giggled again.

***

"What the hell kind of blood is this?" Foreman asked, forcing Tim to go through basic neurological tests to the point where he got pissed off and said the alphabet backward at rapid-fire pace, in Greek, which Chase recognized in shock.

That was when they dragged him down to Radiology and hadn't let him out since. They'd even taken the bloody sheets and blanket from his bed and practically distilled the damned thing to test the blood in it. Analytical freaks.

"Can I GO NOW?" Tim bellowed at the top of his lungs after being stuck in an MRI tube for over an hour as they examined each and every fucking inch of him. "No," Cuddy snapped through the microphone. They were ignoring him pressing the distress button. He should have them sued.

"If you don't let me out of this fucking thing, I'm suing the whole lot of you. And I'm sure Bruce will be all too happy to pull every cent he's donated out of this place if you're going to use it to turn into Unit 731, you rat bastards!"

Before he knew it, Tim was out in the hall, marveling at the lack of air he needed to keep running. Not to mention the fact that he was running at all. He wished they hadn't locked his cane up, he could have used it as a weapon.

Skipping the elevators, Tim headed for the stairs, glad they'd at least given him scrubs since he was now running his ass off. He didn't stop until he got to the cafeteria. It was mostly empty, which suited him well. It looked like everyone was getting ready to go back up to his room.

"Screw that, we're out of here. Everyone keeps trying to turn me into some kind of guinea pig."

Without questioning him further, his family and friends got up and Bart rushed him over to the bathroom on the side of the room so he could change his clothes.

Within another few minutes they were outdoors again and Tim was dashing toward Bruce's jet for the first time in decades.

_...Under a molten sky, beyond the road, we lie in wait...You think they know us now...Wait 'til the stars come out...You'll see that..._

...TBC...


	8. Consequences

**Identity Crisis**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** DC and Dark Horse Comics, respectively; Heel and Toe; Warner Bros.; Whedon, et al. own all but those unrecognized. The Decemberists. "O Valencia.". Hush, Rough Trade, 2006.

**Summary:** "I need help getting to the _ground_, brat! You already did your part, obviously, with the getting around. I need to make some arrangements before I leave. I'm pissed I forgot."

**Notes:** Written with **marag**'s blessing; I got this idea and had to run with it, but you know the other stuff by now...

**Timelines:** Batman: post-_Batman Begins/The Dark Knight_, 'Heart of Hush'; Buffy, (including the following comics) post-_Viva Las Buffy_, _Slayer, Interrupted_, and _A Stake to the Heart_; post-'Becoming, Part II';

General storyverse, post-Acquainted with the Night by **marag**, which is encompassed in its own wonderful universe where Gregory House was once our dear Timothy Drake...House, M.D., 'No Reason' -- AU after that.

Part VII: Consequences

"Stop, we have to stop," Tim said no sooner than five minutes after they were airborne.

"You're crazy," Dick complained, throwing him a dirty look from the cockpit but Tim just rolled his eyes. "I wanted to get away from the testing, yeah, but I've got some other stuff I have to do -- stop -- " Tim pointed to the large open expanse of a rooftop through the darkness.

"That's one of the academic buildings."

"You don't think anyone will notice the landing of a personal jet on top of a -- "

At Tim's impatient glare, plus Bruce's 'please humor him' expression, Dick sighed and landed the plane, ignoring the few students who were still out at this hour and heading back to dorms and such.

"Lisbet, you come with," Tim ordered, and Elizabeth raised an eyebrow before shrugging and unbuckling herself. "I need you to get me down to the ground without grappling hooks or anything and if anyone can do it, it's the Slayer."

Elizabeth frowned, "Did I mention how irritating it is that everyone knows -- "

"You knew I was Robin," Tim interjected and Elizabeth gritted her teeth before flinging her hands upward and standing, stretching before walking over and scooping her father up into her arms, much to his very loud dismay and everyone else's amusement.

"Put me the hell down!" Tim snapped but Elizabeth gave him her best innocent Valley Girl look.

"But you need help getting around and I thought -- "

"I need help getting to the _ground_, brat! You already did your part, obviously, with the getting around. I need to make some arrangements before I leave. I'm pissed I forgot."

"You did just have a stroke and major, life-threatening surgery," Selina reminded him but knew Tim wouldn't buy it.

"Genius," he pointed at himself before scowling and striding to the hatch, shoving it open and stepping out in the deep darkness.

There was a slight breeze and Tim felt...amazing. He couldn't even begin to describe it. He wanted to start doing calisthenics, but that would be undignified, he decided, so -- instead, he simply stretched his arms out to either side of himself and twirled around until he got dizzy.

"Oh, God," he could hear faintly from the plane, but didn't particularly care who it was. When he stopped, he saw Elizabeth grinning brightly at him, a laugh just behind her eyes.

"You're welcome!" she giggled and Tim was tempted to be irritated except that she wasn't mocking him or being facetious, nor was she in the wrong. Deciding to do so before he chickened out, Tim grabbed Elizabeth in a hug and kissed the top of her head. Less than a few seconds went by before she started sniffling and he had a suspicion she was crying. He tipped her head upward and wiped her tears away with his thumb.

"None of that. This is 'happy time'. Maybe not 'Race Dad' time, but definitely 'Spelunk Dad to the bottom of this building so he can get to his car and then get the title to his apartment changed'."

"You're giving it to Dr. Wilson?"

At this Tim snorted loudly, fighting incredulity. "He can pay for another apartment. Or a house, even. It's a long story and nothing you need to hear. Don't worry about it, just get me to my current home so I can get back to my real one."

Elizabeth sighed, but nodded, picking her father up again before running and jumping swiftly downward and both immediately flashed back to Tim's hallucination and Buffy's dream where he'd done something of the sort. When they reached the bottom, Buffy landed far too easily for a girl of her size carrying a man of his. Tim forced himself not to make a comment, but instead wrapped his arm around her neck once more and kissed the top of her head again in thanks.

Elizabeth gave a watery smile, "Are these going to be a habit because I could totally get used to being a Daddy's Girl again."

Tim did something between a laugh and a snicker and they began dashing across the campus and through Princeton, only stopping for good when they'd reached Tim's apartment eight miles away.

"What the hell is your blood made of, gasoline?" He asked in amazement, noting his heart was only slightly fast. Elizabeth shrugged and Tim looked across the street and noticed a thick, overhanging branch.

"Dad, we can do this later!"

"Says the girl who gets to do this kind of stuff all the time."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and then yelled, "Tick tock, Dad!"

"Yeah, yeah," Tim muttered before quickly judging the distance, running, and jumping straight upward onto the branch.

Elizabeth fought a grin, "There, satisfied? You're the one who has stuff to do, you know."

"It's...been a long time and you know it -- this might not last," Tim said to himself, but somehow he knew Buffy heard him because she immediately softened, choosing instead to keep an eye out for passerby and engaging in distraction.

She couldn't say she blamed him.

It was only a few more seconds, though, before Dad jumped back down and started walking along like they'd been doing nothing out of the ordinary at all. Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from smiling, even as more tears managed to wend their way down her cheeks.

***

_Two Hours Later, Western Standard Time_

Giles was infuriated. He'd finally managed to gather both Willow and Xander, as well as Oz, to try and move the Statue of Acathla out of the mansion on Crawford Street when he'd found several thick chains locking the gates before it shut, the property proclaimed having been **SOLD** with a large Wayne Enterprises emblem emblazoned at the top.

Turning away from the decrepit building and balling his fists, clenching his eyes shut before cursing in frustration, "How the bloody hell could this have happened?"

Willow bit the inside of her cheek as Oz took gentle hold of her hand. They'd made sure she wouldn't be doing anything more than standing for a short while -- Xander and Oz, along with Giles were supposed to be the ones doing the heavy lifting -- but now everything seemed for naught -- as far as Giles and Xander were concerned.

It was mostly Oz's hand in hers that reminded Willow that Xander had _lied_, to Buffy and in her own name. She owed him nothing at the moment. Giles, she wasn't quite so sure about, but she _knew_ Giles. Once he found Buffy, he'd try to drag her back to Sunnydale with guilt and recriminations about her sacred _duty_, like she couldn't perform it anywhere else.

They'd discussed it at length during the day while Xander kept calling _again_, before finally deciding possibly dropping by might be a good idea.

Elizabeth -- Buffy had decided and Willow and, surprisingly, Oz could understand that she hadn't wanted to keep the name she'd been using all this time when, very technically, it was a lie and it certainly wasn't who she was anymore. She was still The Slayer, yes, but her stepfather and her mother had both hurt her terribly and right now she couldn't bear using the names that tied her to a place and, especially, Hank Summers -- both of which had brought her nothing but heartache since before her mother and stepfather had divorced.

But, more importantly, Bu -- Elizabeth had found a true connection to who she was. Willow wasn't going to ruin that for her if she could just force herself to keep quiet. Oz definitely seemed to be helping with that and she, in turn, was surprisingly okay with that.

She didn't know what to think about Xander's anger at Buffy leaving right now and didn't really want to. She didn't want to think about him lying to her about Buffy or any of it for long because every time she did, it caused a horrible pain to go ricocheting through her skull. She could wait. In the meantime, however, she had nothing to say to him, even if she could think of anything.

She didn't want to cry again because that hurt almost as bad as being angry. The sobs would eventually come in huge, heaving wails and she couldn't control them and she knew that if she were powerful enough, the strength of her emotions would start to power spells. But, for now, it just felt like her heart had been ripped out and that was awful enough.

"You know these rich types," Xander was sniping when she tuned in again. "Think they can buy up the whole world if it looks pretty or cool enough."

"Xander, this is not a laughing matter!" Giles snapped, ripping off his glasses and cleaning them angrily.

"I wasn't joking," Xander said darkly and Willow suppressed the urge to frown angrily at him with another squeeze of Oz's hand. She looked at him, completely at a loss for what to do, but he managed to say everything with just expressions.

_Don't worry. I'll call Elizabeth at her new place tonight. We'll talk._

Willow sighed and squeezed his hand back. _Okay._

***

Tim sat in the office of his lawyer, filling out form after form. If he didn't think it was absolutely necessary, he'd've chucked all this crap and just sold Chase the place outright. But he figured that since Chase was currently living just above a cardboard box thanks to his jackass (Tim was trying to be nice) father, it wouldn't do much good to stick him with the homeowner's insurance, too.

Sure, Chase would be getting a hefty raise once Cuddy figured out that Tim wanted Chase to replace him for a probationary period until Tim, himself, felt Chase was fully ready to step up.

It wouldn't take much longer, he knew -- Chase had made a complete turnaround over the last year, so much that Tim was just short of astonished. But the kid had done it and Tim felt he deserved a reward. Even if Chase could never go back to the way they'd both been raised like Tim was doing, it didn't mean he had to be a pauper, either.

He wasn't going to hand Chase everything on a silver platter -- an inheritance outside of his department or anything like that -- but at least a decent apartment with enough room for his stuff and one which was already paid for. Chase had a car now, too, at least. Now he'd have a roof that didn't leak, too.

Signing off the final line with a flourish, Tim forked over the paperwork and took the lock box with his apartment keys, deed, insurance papers, the title to his Corvette, and several cash installments of what amounted to the first year's payment on the insurance before shaking hands with his lawyer -- both herself and him rolling their eyes at each other and Elizabeth giggling in response -- and leaving with the woman's blessing and congratulations on getting well. She was looking forward to hearing from House from Gotham when he completed his move, as well as meeting Dr. Chase.

"Hey, just because I brought you a new client doesn't mean you don't still owe me a date!"

"You were lying and you know it," Retner snarked back and Tim pouted at her. "Besides, I don't date my clients and if I did suddenly misplace my ethics, I wouldn't start with you. I'd make you wait, you deserve as much -- all those damned parking tickets and patient complaints, my _God_. If I had children, I'd charge you overtime. I thought your hair was brown."

"Dye. God, will anyone leave that alone?"

"No," Retner and Elizabeth said together. Then Tim could have kicked himself.

"Damn it. Erica Retner, this is my daughter Elizabeth. My ex and I sort of drifted apart so I didn't know she existed. She won't want to hear this, but she's not stupid so if anything happens to me whatever's in my trust fund in Gotham gets forked over to her and added to the one Bruce has doubtlessly set up in her own name since a week ago."

At Buffy's objections and stammers, her face pale, Tim lifted a finger. "Ah-bu-but -- you know as well as I do why it's necessary. And if you stop needing it, you can give it to whomever you want -- NO, NOT RIGHT NOW. You're not even allowed to touch it until you're eighteen because the same rules apply to you that did to me and don't give me that look."

Sure enough, Elizabeth had been on the verge of giving Tim her, 'If I even make it' look before pausing at his words.

"Even if you ever _do_ go back to Sunnyhell, it's for you to do the usual stuff with -- buy a home, a car, college, all that crap. Hell, if you want to come back here and marry Chase and -- "

"Dad, stop!" Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Chase was cute and all, but no way. She showed him her Claddagh ring and frowned, "I'll explain it to you once we're in the air."

Tim raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment further. They spent another hour setting up Retner's knowledge of the escrow Elizabeth's spanking new trust fund before finally bidding Retner adieu and more or less racing back to Bruce's jet while Tim could still take advantage of it because he was getting just a bit paranoid about it even if he didn't let anyone know that.

By morning, they were back in Gotham and the sun was just rising. Tim stood on the lawn, his stomach tossing with the confusion of the feelings hurling their way through him. It was bad enough when Cass had asked him how it felt to be back. He hadn't lied then.

So what did feeling like...like he was _home_ now make him?

Around him, Kon, Bart, Dick, Clark, Elizabeth -- he really had to come up with a nickname for her soon -- and Cass were carrying his things from his apartment into the mansion and his new bedroom. The only exceptions would be his stereo, record player, and his piano, which would all go into an unused room that Bruce was going to have lined with insulation so he could play anything he wanted when he pleased. He knew Bart and Kon would be giving in and digging through his records before the hour was up, but somehow he didn't care.

Eventually he found himself sitting on his bed, the previous one he hadn't picked out being placed in another room. Bruce had informed him that he was having Tim's things from his office shipped as soon as Tim tendered his resignation. Whether or not he wanted to do that from the Batcave was up to him.

Tim sat him from where he'd been lying on his bed staring at the ceiling and something occurred to him. Bruce had said something on the plane about having made an acquisition in and from Sunnydale while they were in Princeton. Something called the Statue of Acathla, which he'd asked Bart, Wally, Clark, and Kon to retrieve in the most convenient and expedient way possible and which would end up in the Cave.

The Cave.

Odds were, Elizabeth still didn't know about it. Bruce had likely been more worried about who Lisbet -- huh, where'd that come from? Well, if she answered to it, then he'd call her that, courtesy of him -- had belonged to (in a manner of speaking) than explaining more about their alter-egos. But since it seemed everyone here knew she was the Slayer and she knew he was Robin once, Tim figured he didn't have much to lose.

_...You wait by the car and we'll go, we'll go..._

Bruce sat before the console, his hands steepled beneath his chin, watching Dr. Cuddy (the woman he knew Tim was in love with, but that didn't save her from his anger) attempt to explain why she'd ignored Tim's demands not to be tested on so extensively or at all.

Finally, after trying and failing to start for nearly five minutes, Dr. Cuddy sank into her chair and bit her lip, tears trailing down her cheeks. "You probably don't understand my reasoning for it, Mr. Wayne -- I don't expect you to. But the last time...I...I didn't test enough, _we_ didn't test thoroughly enough. I g -- I didn't want to make that mistake again and I got carried away."

Bruce sighed inwardly, not betraying his own understanding. He loved Tim so fiercely he didn't know how to articulate it and that failure had cost him thirty years of the love and company of one of the two he felt sons. "You realize, however, that in this process, you violated his rights as a patient and as a human being."

Dr. Cuddy winced hard, her hands coming up in fists to press into her forehead. When she pulled them away, her mascara had begun to run, but Bruce courteously disregarded that. "Yes, I do."

He was impressed that her voice didn't waver. "You realize that regaining Greg's trust is going to be an uphill battle, one both yourself and Dr. Wilson will have to make -- he went right along with you and you both seem to go into schemes against him together too often for my liking, much less his."

Dr. Cuddy's eyes clenched shut, but she forced them back open even though it obviously burned and nodded. "Yes, Mr. Wayne, I do. I...I don't presume to know your relationship with Greg, but it was very obvious you love him very much."

_And he, you,_ Bruce thought, though outwardly he only nodded. "I do. I have two sons and he's the younger of them."

Dr. Cuddy's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open for half a second before she stammered, "I-I'm sorry, I never -- Greg never..."

"Believe me, Dr. Cuddy, that's no one's fault but mine. Which is why I'm asking you personally, yourself and Dr. Wilson -- may I see him, please?"

Dr. Cuddy paled and jumped slightly before training the computer's camera onto a wide-eyed James.

"I'm asking yourself, James, and Dr. Cuddy to refrain from pretending _Greg_ -- " and here Bruce's voice hardened, knowing James would understand that Bruce really meant Tim. "Is not a human man with feelings and sensations and who has experienced things neither of you could begin to comprehend. I understand it was an idea you had, Dr. Wilson, to deprive Greg of his medication on a _dare_ and that you used Dr. Cuddy to carry it out."

James paled so sharply that Bruce was afraid he might actually pass out. "I -- it was -- "

"Medically dangerous, reckless, pointless, and stupid, Dr. Wilson."

"He's ad -- " Wilson managed to clamp his mouth shut, but his face told Bruce everything he needed to know.

"Greg is -- was dependent on his medication. I'm led to believe that long-term use of any narcotic medication, no matter the circumstance, tends to lead to withdrawal effects in the vast majority of patients. His pain, was it imaginary?"

"I -- "

"Please answer my very simple question, Doctor," Bruce said, his voice becoming slightly harsher.

"I don't know," Wilson said truthfully, his head dipping in shame. "There wasn't -- isn't any way to prove whether his pain was physical or psychosomatic."

"Is it your business to discern such a distinction so long as Greg was doing his job, competently, ably, and without putting the lives of others in danger? Was it necessary to prove your -- by admission -- baseless accusation?"

"It wasn't an accusation!" Wilson burst out before actually clapping his hands over his mouth.

"You only just said it was impossible to prove one way or the other. By your own admission, Greg's pain could have been completely, legitimately real and you put him through a week of detoxification from a schedule two narcotic pain medication for no more reason than your baseless suspicion that Greg was addicted to hydrocodone -- a medication, I'm told, he was placed on without his consent, much less for the vast majority of his care at that time.

"Dr. Cuddy admits that she didn't give him an X-Ray, but -- in her defense -- by then, were they not only trying to keep Greg, who was very close to death, alive? What was your excuse not to investigate Greg's complaints thoroughly before simply labeling him a drug addict and taking his life into your hands for no valid medical reason?"

Wilson didn't even try to respond this time, his forehand instead in his hands. "I was only trying to help," Bruce heard him moan, though he was absolutely certain that Wilson didn't know it.

"Dr. Wilson," Bruce snapped and Wilson looked up, his reddened eyes wide as he remembered Bruce was talking to him. "You owe Greg an apology, to say the least. If he were the vindictive type, which he isn't usually, he would have sued you and could still do so. You're lucky he has no such inclination. You're lucky he views you as such a good friend."

Then Bruce's voice hardened even further and Wilson actually shuddered, "But, make no mistake, with Greg having left Princeton to recuperate, he will be under the care of doctors here in Gotham. If he does return to Princeton, I won't stop him from requesting that you be his physician again, but I sincerely hope you decline."

Bruce knew Tim was going to be angry with him for that part, but the very image of Greg going through withdrawal from Vicodin because this ass had something to prove to no one made Bruce himself sick to his stomach.

"I...yes, sir."

"I'm well aware Tim won't be happy with what I've said to you, that he'll say it was his life. Be prepared that I will remind him that it was _his life_ you so carelessly dangled on the line for no other reason than to satisfy your own curi -- I'm talking."

James had been on the verge of interrupting, Bruce knew and with a glower aimed specifically at rendering the other man speechless.

"To satisfy your own curiosity. _My son_ is not your toy to break. If you decided this careless stunt wasn't enough and did something further -- you could kill him." Bruce took a deep breath and let all emotion leave his face and voice. "If you ever caused him any more harm, I would come to take retribution from your hide and Dr. Cuddy's hospital, make no mistake."

James' face was the very picture of terror and Bruce knew why. This man knew who he was, whom he had been -- what he was still capable of.

How much he loved Tim.

Bruce sighed inwardly, "I won't retract my donations from this hospital as Greg threatened, but I ask you both to remember that simply because your intentions are good does not mean that the outcome will be the same. The world doesn't work that way and you're both well old enough to know it."

Bruce frowned slightly before adding, "I'm sure Tim will contact you both as soon as he feels up to it. He did quite a lot of running around today, taking advantage of his newfound freedom however long it may last. I should hope the rest of his life, but God doesn't make promises or grant favor anymore. Though, as it currently stands, he does have resting to do and other things to take care of. Kindly be patient with him."

Bruce watched as Drs. Wilson and Cuddy both nodded morosely before bidding them goodnight and ending the transmission before turning around to see not only a fuming Tim, but a partially mesmerized Buffy, who -- while still shooting vicious glances at the screen before her -- was staring in awe at the Batcave and its many trophies from Gotham's Rogues Gallery.

"You had no right," Tim snapped, wishing he had one of his canes to whack on the console to bring his point home.

Bruce didn't budge, "_He_ had no right and you know it. No, I don't intend to interfere in your quite-independent life, I assure you, Tim, but serious bodily harm for curiosity's sake? You expected me to ignore that?"

Tim fumed a bit more before exhaling sharply, "No. No, not at all. You did exactly what I thought you would if you ever found out. I...I didn't want to get you this angry. You've been started on Digoxin since Pamela's little hijinks."

Bruce relaxed, unable to decide between a small smile or a frown, and trailed his right hand along the armrest. "I should have known you'd know that -- your intensivist prescribed it."

Tim nodded, again wishing he had a cane to play with. "It's derived from foxglove, you know. By all rights, it should kill you."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "If that were the case, it wouldn't be on the market, now would it?"

"Yeah, well, just keep taking it. We're not a type match, so I can't go auctioning myself off to the highest bidder like Little Miss Deathwish, here."

Elizabeth made a liberally mocking face before poking her father in the side and reveling in his wince. "You're alive and damned well kicking so shut up."

Tim was on the verge of a retort when Bart's voice rang out, "Head's up!" and he came speeding down the Bat Cave stairwell with an object that Buffy never thought she'd have the misfortune of ever seeing again.

"No, no -- oh, God -- no..." she whispered, backing away, her eyes widening and tears forming as she watched Bart settle the statue of Acathla in its apparent new home.

"What the hell is that?" Tim asked, tilting his head trying to see if it was prettier in another direction. "I wasn't aware you were into Art Deco...Gothic...Impressionism, Bruce."

"It's a very dangerous artifact, one I felt completely uncomfortable leaving around civilians and other unfortunate people who might stumble across it."

"Like my _Watcher_?" Buffy bit out, glaring at Bruce, who -- to his credit -- looked completely unhappy with her change in disposition.

"If he sees you as merely a tool, Elizabeth, then yes."

"I..." Buffy started to stretch her hand out toward the statue before snatching it back and covering her mouth instead, forcing a sob not to emerge.

"What the hell did you do?" Tim asked, glaring at Bruce and wrapping his arm around Lisbet, pulling her into his side and kissing the top of her head again as she started to cry.

"That's a discussion that you and your daughter need to have, Tim. She and I already had it the morning we found out you'd been shot."

Tim went to make a snarky comment when he was surprised as Lisbet yanked herself out of his embrace and, clenching her fists, slowly knelt down in front of the statue.

"That's not some kind of creepy religious -- "

"Nothing of the sort, now hush," Bruce said sharply and Tim and Bart each glanced at one another in curiosity and worry as Elizabeth knelt in front of the statue and slowly turned the ring around her finger before taking it off.

She seemed to be arguing with herself about both the ring and the statue, but not in any obvious way. It was more her body language, which Tim _could_ read, it was so loud and clear to him.

Finally, Elizabeth came to a decision, it seemed, because she removed the ring and set it down in front of the statue again before jumping up and turning to run out of the Cave, her sobs evident no matter how she tried to muffle them.

Without warning, however, a dark red light flashed and the naked form of a man fell out of thin air and landed on top of the ring, startling Elizabeth into turning back around, her eyes widening once she saw who it was.

"Oh, my God," she whispered, her eyes widened completely as she stared at Angel's seemingly unconscious form.

Then, without warning, Angel lunged upward, growling ferally, and ran straight for Bruce.

...TBC...


	9. Control

**Identity Crisis**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** DC and Dark Horse Comics, respectively; Heel and Toe; Warner Bros.; Whedon, et al. own all but those unrecognized. The Decemberists. "Summersong.". Hush, Rough Trade, 2006. The Decemberists. "The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid." Hush, Rough Trade, 2009.

**Summary:** Neither of them voiced the concern that by the time House came back, if he did, that any trust he had in them would be gone forever.

**Notes:** Written with **marag**'s blessing; I got this idea and had to run with it, but you know the other stuff by now...

**Notes, cont'd.** Before anyone else asks, despite the one cited being my favorite prayer, I haven't the slightest clue what it is in English, as opposed to Hebrew. Yes, it's my favorite prayer and I don't know what it means. **Adoxerella** was incredulous. ('How can you have a favorite prayer if you don't know what it means?')

I don't care, it's a long story. Sort of. Anyway.

**Timelines:** Batman: post-'Heart of Hush'; Buffy, (including the following comics) post-_Viva Las Buffy_, _Slayer, Interrupted_, and _A Stake to the Heart_; post-'Becoming, Part II';

General storyverse, post-Acquainted with the Night by **marag**, which is encompassed in its own wonderful universe where Gregory House was once our dear Timothy Drake...

House, M.D., 'No Reason' - AU after that.

Part VIII: Control

_Ramblin', where to begin..._

They sat in stunned, ashamed silence. Neither dared speak until...

"Did...Wilson, did you know...about House and Bruce Wayne?"

Wilson blinked in classic deer-in-headlight fashion. Could only stare at her, his mouth trying to open and failing spectacularly, and eventually Cuddy just held up her hand in silent acquiesence. Wilson sank back into his chair in obvious relief.

Cuddy favored him with a wry, if sad smile, "Violation of the 'Bro Code'?"

Wilson laughed convulsively and coughed, "Ah, uh, no. More like the 'I'll kick your ass if you tell anyone about this' code. Or 'I could also just get my big brother to do it for me.' That's also a very handy code."

Cuddy raised an eyebrow, "House is a little old to be that dependent on his big brother, wouldn't you say? Say nothing of the fact that - Dick has to be, what, in his fifties by now?"

Wilson fervently nodded, wanting terribly to tell her that that wouldn't mean a damned thing. If she'd been paying proper attention at the party, she would have seen Bruce, who had practically raised at least three of them, kicking goon ass all over the place - heart medication, or no.

Wilson never thought he'd be relived that Cuddy was too distracted to notice something involving House. Tim. House told him his full birth name when they'd returned. Timothy Jackson Drake.

Wilson ran his hands over his hair and stared downward at the floor again, silence once again enveloping the office until Wilson sat back up straight, looking at Cuddy in confusion, "What would make you...Why would you automatically think I knew that?"

Cuddy scoffed through the last remains of the tears in her eyes, wiping them away swiftly before saying simply, "He tells you everything, Even if you refuse to return the favor."

Wilson, alarmed, looked over at Cuddy, fumbling for words, at which Cuddy smiles sadly. "Wilson, stop before you asphixiate. You're his best friend. I'm just...his boss."

Wilson paused, then, tilting his head to the side and frowning reprovingly, "That, I know for a fact, is not true. Cuddy. Lisa. You know House. He's not going to just - do you know the _fishing expeditions_ I have to go on to get an iota of anything out of him that isn't layers of 'I made this up so people won't see who I really am?'"

Cuddy's eyes widened and she threw her hands up, "That's just it! At least you have that! He won't even do that for me. It always dissolves into a bunch of sexual innuendo and in the end I don't know anything more than I started with."

Wilson let his frown lessen a bit, but made it a point to show that it was still there, "Lisa, the problem with that is that you let him. You let him push you away. I was talking to House's friends in Gotham while we were at Mr. Wayne's party - " Cuddy tried to interject but Wilson wouldn't let her.

"Yes. We were at House's foster father's birthday party and you had no idea. I get that. But we both know he wasn't obligated to tell you. He wasn't even obligated to tell me. The only reason he did, I bet, was because while we were there one of them..."

Wilson kicked himself for walking himself right into a trap. "You know Cass - the woman who doesn't talk very much?" Cuddy nodded, a reluctantly smug grin coming to her face now. Wilson made a face but forced himself to continue.

"She kissed me."

Cuddy's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, but then she started to visibly restrain herself from laughing and Wilson huffed, rolling his eyes. "You _like_ her, don't you?" Cuddy taunted gleefully and Wilson scowled.

"I...that's not that point."

Cuddy snorted daintily, "Oh, bull, Wilson. You like her and would love to see her again, even to go on a date."

Wilson's eyes widened comically then, "Uh, no - not even entertaining that. Do you know that not only House would kill me, but Bruce Wayne, and House's - probably a dozen or more so friends would all kill me after that. One of them practices voodoo, I'm sure she could probably bring me back to life or something just so they could all have a crack at my already broken body!"

Cuddy sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes, "I think you're being a drama queen."

Wilson ran his hand over his face, itching to tell her how wrong she really was but managing not to.

"That's not the point, though. The point is that we...we messed up. But...we both know House'll forgive us. Maybe..." Wilson sighed dejectedly. "Maybe that's been the problem. Maybe he needs a little time away from - well, me, at least. Mr. Wayne was right."

Cuddy stared at him, then, wide-eyed, but Wilson forced himself to continue despite wanting to curl up into a ball on the floor and disappear again.

"I could have killed him cutting off his Vicodin and not supervising him or anything and I had no right to do it. And I used..."

Wilson gritted his teeth and then forced himself to look at Cuddy, who was staring back at him, her mouth slightly open. "I'm...so sorry I used you like that. You've only ever had the best of intentions when it comes to House and...and I can't even say that much. I don't even know if I can really admit that without trying to reverse what I said later. I've done that before, especially to House.

"House, at least, has a really good reason for being the way he is. I don't even know why I do the things I do. Mr. Wayne asked me and - and I couldn't answer because _I don't know_."

Wilson kicked his heel back against the chair he was sitting in, ran his hand through his hair, and then stared at the floor again before he said, "I think I'm jealous of...House. My family...my family kind of fell apart after my brother - lost himself. We're really good at pretending by now, that we're scions of society, the very bastion of what a normal family should be.

"But...we're not a family. And I think I'm jealous because House has suddenly got family popping out all over the place and maybe they're not normal, but they don't care about that."

Wilson blew out a breath, wondering if all of this pouring out of him had been waiting for years to do so. "My parents...I'm perpetually on thin ice with them because of my ex-wives and alimonies. In reality, I think they should have gotten a divorce decades ago...but they don't want to let go of what they had before...before Danny, just..."

Wilson sniffed hard and sighed, "They want what we had back then and I want the same thing. The only thing we really do is send each other cards on the High Holidays. I...House _does_ have more of a family than I do because they're actually willing to welcome him back into the fold - even, forgive. We don't do that in my family, I don't think."

Wilson didn't look at Cuddy, sure she was crying again. He didn't need to see it again.

"You called him the _prodigal son_ and said Bruce would kill a fatted calf in his honor. There's no need for that. A daughter he didn't even know he had gave half the blood now in his body because she wanted a parent. And if I know House like I think I do, he's never going to stop trying to pay that back."

Wilson was crying, too, now, but he couldn't stop talking. He tried not to care, but he couldn't not do that, either.

"At the party, I was talking to - ah, I think their names are Bartholomew, Kon - K-O-N, I'm not sure what it's short for - Narcissa, Greta, Cassandra - because there's two Cassandras, actually - one's Cassie - and the second they mentioned the fact that House hadn't wanted to talk to them all this time, Bart said, 'water under the bridge'."

Wilson steadfastly examined his shoes while he said all this. There were drops from his tears landing on the shined leather and he busied himself with wiping them away with his thumb so he didn't have to look at Cuddy and consciously realize he was speaking to anyone at all.

"I couldn't imagine House just running away like he did - like Danny did - and...I cou - I can't say 'water under the bridge'. I don't know what kind of person that makes me. That I can't forgive my brother. That we can't. Our family is in shambles, only we haven't fallen yet. We should have a long time ago."

Cuddy listened to Wilson talk and found herself blinking in astonishment. She knew Wilson had some baggage - his ex-wives had attested to that much, but...she honestly didn't know what to think about what he was saying. Come to think of it, she wasn't quite sure _he_ knew what he was saying.

"Wi - James. Just because you don't have that right now doesn't mean you never will. I mean - really, look at who we're talking about. House shut his life in Gotham out for _thirty years_, but he has it all, and more, back again. There's nothing saying you can't."

Wilson scoffed lightly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and then sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "Cuddy, you know the prayer for when you're doing something you haven't done in a long time? Which - look at us, such good Jews."

Cuddy managed not to roll her eyes and simply answered his question, the words coming to her even as she thought about it. (_Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha olam, she hehiyanu v'kiy'manu v'higi'anu la z'man ha zeh..._) "Yes - of course, but...wait, is House Jewish?"

Wilson chuckled. "I don't think so. That's not what I meant, though. And even if it was, I doubt House would surrender enough to say it. That would imply trust and despite what his brother says, I doubt he has very much."

Cuddy's eyes widened again and she asked, "You met House's older brother?" Wilson forced himself not to say anything about falling into the Bat Cave and instead just nodded. "He said House had changed a lot since they'd known him. The kid he'd known wouldn't have let anybody sneak up on him. He said House trusts us with his life."

Cuddy felt her breath rush into her lungs and balled her fists again. "Bruce Wayne just said the same thing," she whispered, her voice loud in the silent office. "Maybe it's better that he's back in Gotham, like you said. He can...we can't take advantage of that trust."

Neither of them voiced the concern that by the time House came back, if he did, that any trust he had in them would be gone forever.

_...In deep, far beneath all the dead sailors slowly slipping to sleep..._

Angel was dashing toward Bruce, a loud growl emanating from his mouth, and Tim and Bart, now joined by Kon, Clark, and Wally all went to stand in front of the older man when Elizabeth's voice rang out loud and clear, "ANGEL!"

Angel halted, turning slowly and staring somewhere between emptiness and confusion. Elizabeth held her ground. "Angel, come here. Come back to me. He has nothing to do with anyone who's tried to hurt me. Come back to me."

Tim wanted very much to object to everything his daughter was saying, but found himself unable to say anything as Angel slowly turned and moved on all fours back to where the statue was, a slow, but steady growl emanating from his mouth, but his body language clearly showing submission, of all things.

"Come back to me," Elizabeth whispered over and over, tears beginning to slide out of her eyes, and finally Angel stared upward at Elizabeth, sniffing her as she knelt down before him.

Running a hand over his hair, Elizabeth wiped her cheeks before an idea told her to hold her tear-stained hand in front of Angel and see if he could recognize her by scent.

Angel pressed his face into Elizabeth's hand and then actually nuzzled it, pulling a giggle out of Elizabeth before she could stop herself.

She didn't care if her new family were staring at her like she really did belong in Arkham now, all she cared about was focusing on Angel and trying to bring him out of the hellish mentality he was stuck in.

Thinking quickly, Elizabeth balled her fists, pressing her fingernails through her skin until a little blood ran down her palm. She held this hand up to Angel now, allowing him to smell that, as well.

"You know who I am. You know me like I know you. You know how I smell, who I am. I may be a Slayer, but you know me more than that. Just like I know you're more than a monster. Come back to me, baby."

Angel shuddered as the scent of Elizabeth's blood hit his nose and he lurched forward, but Elizabeth pushed back firmly on his chin, holding his head very still.

"No," she said quietly, firmly. "Listen to me. You know who I am, like I know you're more than a monster. You know I'm more than blood. You know my blood because I know you've wanted it, but you didn't let yourself because you loved me more. Just like..."

Fresh tears came to Elizabeth's eyes as she resisted the urge to glance at her family. "Just like I love you enough to have followed you into Hell if I could have."

She ignored what had to be her father stumbling backward and Clark speaking quietly to him. It was just her and Angel. "You loved me enough to close your eyes and you know I'd do the same if you asked me to.

"I told you once that when you kissed me I wanted to die. Remember, Angel? Remember that time at the Bronze after you staked Darla because she tried to kill me - all, _Let's start with the knee caps. No fun dancing without them?_ Skanky, evil bitch. I told her she needed a little work around the eyes. Four hundred years takes a toll, after all..."

A tiny smile had come to Elizabeth's face and the rest of her new family watched in wretched fascination as she descibed what sounded like a horror movie, but appeared to have been her life, in a shaky, yet light and humorous tone. "What did you tell her when she came to see you that night and you sent her away? Didn't she remind you what I am? Why didn't you care?"

Elizabeth kept asking questions she honestly wanted answers to in hope of getting Angel to at least come to the present. "Remember that night on the docks before Spike and Dru's cronies attacked us? Remember how you told me goodbye and gave me your ring?"

Elizabeth stroked Angel's matted and filthy hair again, overcome with the idea of just being able to see him again, let alone touch him.

"I know what that ring means, baby. I know you're my husband and I'm your wife." Elizabeth took hold of Angel in a tight hug and stroked his hair as he growled quietly but didn't move away or try to attack her.

"I'm going to get you back. I promise you that. You're going to have to stay down here for a while, though. You're in my new granddad's house - well, the big cave under it. He's the big guy - the one in the chair, anyway - that you almost ate over there, which - hey, I don't appreciate and neither does my dad or any of my new aunts and uncles. My new grandma certainly won't be happy you tried to munch on her boyfriend. Very, very rude."

Bart leaned over toward a shocked and mostly horrified Tim and whispered, "Is Lizzie honestly having a conversation with the feral vampire who just tried to kill Bruce and could probably massacre everyone in this house literally without a thought?"

"Shut up, Bart," Elizabeth said plainly without taking her eyes away from Angel and Bart froze before standing straight and staring in just as much horror as Tim. "And I told you to find a new one but, at this point, you probably won't."

Elizabeth started talking to Angel again, "You're not going to eat any of my new family, are you? Because we're all good guys and good guys don't do that to one another."

Elizabeth glanced up to where Kon had been given the sedative that Bruce and Barbara had prepared in the absence of Tim's senses and nodded. Before Angel could so much as turn, Kon was behind him and injected the etorphine into Angel's jugular vein.

Within moments, the vampire was unconscious and Elizabeth was sobbing again, holding him to her and crying into his shoulder as Barbara, now before them both, carefully wrapped a blanket around him so that Clark could go get Angel some borrowed clothes.

She was still in exactly the same position when the Man of Steel returned. They slowly pried Angel from Buffy's grasp, but she refused to let go, instead insisting on helping get him dressed in a set of sweats and lying him on the blankets Wally had returned with.

It was only then that Tim managed to snap out of his stupor and stomped over to where Elizabeth and Angel, now curled up beside her, sat with her back to the wall, and more tears still trailing down her cheeks.

Then Elizabeth looked upward at him in muted joy and any objection Tim had prepared died on his lips.

_Remember when I found you, the miseries that hounded you..._

...TBC...


	10. Refutation

**Identity Crisis**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** DC and Dark Horse Comics, respectively; Heel and Toe; Warner Bros.; Whedon, et al. own all but those unrecognized. Fall Out Boy. "I've Got All This Ringing in My Ears and None on My Fingers." Island, Fueled By Ramen, 2008. Fall Out Boy. "Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes"., "I Don't Care.", "She's My Winona"., "America's Suitehearts.", "Pavlove." Island, Fueled By Ramen, 2009. A Perfect Circle. "Passive." EMI, Virgin, 2004.

**Summary:** "So you're just going to leave me here!" he yelled as loudly as he could, his fingers clawing at the mesh of the cage. "You can't - I'm not a monster!"

Oz paused and, without looking back, said, "You keep telling yourself that."

**Notes:** Wow, this one was a chore. Though, mostly because I couldn't seem to stop writing and editing even in favor of fundamentals like _sleep_...

**Notes, con't.:** Also, this is not about Super!Xander or Xander-bashing. As I have said before, I despise character bashing of any kind. This is about the possible toll those alternate personae could take on his relationships with those around him, which would already be strained if they'd realized his dishonesty and other undesirable traits that needed working on a lot sooner, if at all.

**Timelines:** Batman: post-'Batman Begins/Dark Knight', 'Heart of Hush'; Buffy, (including the following comics) post-_Viva Las Buffy_, _Slayer, Interrupted_, and _A Stake to the Heart_; post-Child of the Hunt; post-'Becoming, Part II';

General storyverse, post-Acquainted with the Night by **marag**, which is encompassed in its own wonderful universe where Gregory House was once our dear Timothy Drake...

House, M.D., 'No Reason' - AU after that.

Part IX: Refutation

_...Do you remember the way I held your hand under the lamp post and ran, oh, this way so many times I could close my eyes..._

Oz held Willow's hand, stroking her palm with his thumb as they slowly walked back to her house. "That was...stressful." Willow forced herself not to laugh too loudly and instead simply squeezed Oz's hand harder.

"I don't know if I can do this, Oz. Every time I see Xander, I want to tell him everything - Buffy's dad, Gotham - but he lied. I looked him in the eye and told him what...what I wanted him to tell Buffy, but he didn't trust either of us enough to accomplish anything. Let alone what needed to be done."

Willow lay her head against Oz's shoulder and he, in turn, wrapped his arm around her back for extra support.

"I...I have this huge urge to make...excuses for him, but...what excuse could there be for sending Angel to Hell? He didn't trust us? He thought we'd fail? He doesn't like Angel? No, correction, he hates Angel? Well, Angel's a part of Buffy and Buffy's a part of him - even when Angel was evil, Buffy was all he thought about. That has to mean something."

Willow had to stop herself from straightening up because that hurt too much. "Oz...you know how you said...you said that the wolf feels just as close to me as you do?" Oz smiled slightly despite the serious subject matter.

"Yeah. It does."

"What if it's the...the same for vampires...and even Slayers? Is there..." Willow forced herself to pause, rest, and take a few breaths before she hurt herself.

"I wonder if there's any precedence of vampires and Slayers being mates and the Watcher's Council just doesn't know about it? I mean, they don't exactly go around sharing all the stuff that would give anyone else any kind of power. And a Slayer and vampire fighting together instead of against one another, turning to each other instead of taking orders from...their instincts or whatever - that'd totally freak them out.

"They'd never tell Buffy or even Giles because they wouldn't trust him not to let Buffy know. They knew Giles had been working with Angel until he lost his soul. They probably know Buffy's the reason why. I mean, who doesn't know what they - " Oz, biting his lip to keep from smiling, gently covered Willow's mouth.

Willow glared playfully at Oz, but took his hint and breathed again. "We just don't know what anyone's known. Or what they've hidden. We should tell Buffy this stuff." Willow blinked, feeling tears start to come to her eyes again. "Maybe she won't feel so alone."

"We don't know if she'd feel more or less alone," Oz countered, shaking his head and reaching up to stroke a strand of hair on the other side of Willow's face back behind her other ear. "After all, every slayer who came before her died. Who knows how it happened? Maybe telling Buffy that would put her in more danger, not less."

Willow bit her lip, conceding that Oz was right about that possibility.

"Besides," Oz continued, rubbing her palm again. "She does have you and I. We may not know where Giles or Xander or even Cordelia stand, but you and I are on the same side. And that's Buffy's.

"Xander was wrong to do what he did and with Giles, it's just the fact that once he finds out that Buffy's left and gone to Gotham, he'll do whatever he feels is necessary to get her back here, whether she wants to be here or not.

"And we both know it's her choice, not his. She's the Slayer, not him. He's contributed like we all have, but in the end Buffy's the one putting her life on the line. She deserves the right to choose where she does so, not that choice being made for her over and over."

Oz stopped talking then and Willow tried to hide her astonishment at him being so verbose.

Between he and Angel, when Angel had his soul, the two of them could have a conversation that consisted of maybe ten words maximum. She knew he thought a lot, but to hear those words aloud was sometimes a shock. He didn't it often.

Willow relaxed even further, leaning into Oz's side, knowing he'd hold her up and having complete trust he wouldn't drop her. "Oz, I...this feels selfish, but I'm tired of...God, I'm tired of everyone assuming all sorts of things about me. Buffy was the first one who didn't do that. Even Jesse did sometimes, but...well, we were kids. I did the same to him.

"But with Xander, it's like we've never stopped being those same tenth graders or, even, kindergartners. I appreciate his concern, but I don't appreciate him acting like I can never do anything. He doesn't trust me to be my own person, but then - why should he? Ever since we were five, I've done everything he does. We've been this package deal and he was always the leader."

Willow frowned, instantly comforted by Oz's hand steadying her within moments. "It was like...like there was only one Musketeer and the others were just D'Artagnan's reflection or something. Well, what if Porthos wanted to make a battle plan or something? What if he had some really good ideas, but D'Artagnan was too convinced of his own right-ness?"

Willow stopped them both and wrapped both of her arms around Oz in a hug, which he returned carefully.

"I just don't want to be a reflection anymore. I want to be Willow. Strong in her own right and her ideas given proper consideration. And I want...I don't want to be second best ever again.

"Buffy - Elizabeth's made it pretty clear that Xander can't have her, so now what? And I don't want to care so much what he feels or why? It's not like I get any of that consideration back from him. I guess I just want to know who Xander would turn to if he didn't have me to play backup to his one-man-show."

Oz listened, taking a deep breath and kissing Willow's forehead. "You don't have to be. You're already Willow. It's just time to find out who Willow is instead of Willow-is-Xander's-best-friend. And you know what?" Oz tipped Willow's chin upward. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Oz gripped her hand a little more tightly again, "You and I - and, of course, Elizabeth - are kind of on a journey together now, you know? I'm figuring out what and maybe who the wolf is. And you're finding out who Willow is, like you knew when you were a kid. I guess it's time for us both to be kids again and do some exploring."

Oz gave her a small smile and Willow felt warmth envelop her. "That sounds great."

With that, they continued their walk, Willow unaware that Xander was standing behind a nearby tree, his eyes aglow with the spirit of the Hyena.

It was only moments later that Oz stopped them both, a growl coming to his lips as he registered an unwelcome presence. "Whoever you are, come out. We both know I know you're there. Stop being a coward."

_...These friends, they don't love you - they're just like a hotel suite, now..._

Xander stepped out from behind the tree, his eyes still glowing and a growl of his own deep in his throat.

Willow felt her eyes widen in shock and a scream building in her throat, but Oz stepped in front of her and growled back, this time loudly and deeply. If Willow could have seen his face, she'd've seen his eyes were black, the way they'd been when the Wild Hunt came to Sunnydale right before Angel lost his soul.

"The only cowards I see are the ones who know where Buffy is and won't tell us because we'd do something so simple as bring her back where she belongs," Xander growled, balling his hands into fists.

Xander's voice had a rough edge to it that Willow had only heard once before. _Oh, my God._

"You lie - " Willow forced herself to stop talking. Of course he had. Anything he didn't want them to know about him, he lied about. Willow remembered being a ghost on Halloween, so she supposed, now that Xander hadn't forgotten anything about being a soldier, either. How could she forget?

Oz turned back and whispered for Willow to stay where she was before walking forward, fully aware of Willow's fear and her discomfort with his eyes. He didn't hold it against her. The wolf scared the hell out of him, too.

"Xander, I suggest you get out of this annoying habit of eavesdropping on people. It's gotten you into a lot of trouble before."

Xander sneered, a laugh-like sound escaping despite his attempts to control it.

To his immense irritation, Oz actually smiled, "You know, Xander, hyenas don't make that noise when they're amused or happy in any way, despite what _humans_ like to think. You and I both know you're not at all happy right now. You're pretty damned scared, as a matter of fact."

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING SCARED?" Xander screamed, launching himself at Oz and forcing himself to ignore Willow's scream. She wasn't screaming because she was afraid of him. She couldn't be. Not him, her Xander-shaped friend -

Oz reached up with both hands and boxed Xander's ears as hard as he could, leaving Xander whimpering as he lurched back. "I would have thought someone would've taught you about eavesdropping, but I suppose not. That part isn't your fault, but - "

Oz growled again, swiping at Xander's face and drawing blood and leaving Xander growling as he stepped backward again. "Your choices had to start sometime. You don't lie because it's necessary. You lie because of your own twisted sense of self-preservation. You have that little trust and faith in the people who've stood by you through everything life's thrown at you. And how do you repay them?"

Oz leapt forward, knocking Xander back and punching him in the stomach. "By using them to complete an underhanded agenda and hurt one of the few defenses this town has because she won't go out on a date with you. And, what's worse? You don't care whether you were right or wrong."

Oz yanked Xander to his feet and punched him in the face, snarling as he watched Xander's soldier persona come forth. "Where were you when we needed you, soldier? Don't tell me you went AWOL?"

Xander spat out a glob of blood and wiped his mouth before scowling at Oz, "You've got a lot of talk for a munchkin of a pup who's probably not even housebroken yet."

Willow covered her mouth as hard as she could, forcing herself not to defend Oz. This was his fight, his and Xander's.

"Really, soldier, do you think you're serving your country, your hometown, letting petty one-sided rivalries get in the way of the fight?"

Oz scratched the side of Xander's face again, prompting Xander to reach for a gun that wasn't there.

"Yeah, that - that wasn't smart," Oz chided, punching Xander as hard as he could in the head and knocking him out.

Exhaling sharply, Oz strongly considered leaving Xander lying there, but knew that'd make him just as bad.

Reaching down and hoisting Xander onto his shoulder, he turned back to Willow, hating the tears he could see streaming down her face by now.

Oz bit his lip, longing to reach out to her, but knowing his hands were raw and bleeding where they'd been scraped during the fight.

"I'm sorry, Willow. I'm so sorry. Look, I...I need to go put Xander in the cage until he's got control of himself again. I need to know if you're up to that. If not, we'll stop at your house first, no questions asked."

Willow shuddered, dithering at first, unable to choose, but then one simple fact reminded her why this had all just taken place and Willow wiped her eyes before whispering, knowing Oz would hear her, "I'd like to go with you - to the library, please? I...we actually need to see if Giles is there first. If he is, I think I can distract him. While...while you take care of..."

Willow's voice broke and she merely nodded at Xander's unconscious form.

_...They always bring up how you've changed...Never the same person when I go to sleep as when I wake up..._

When Xander's eyes opened the next morning, Oz was sitting at the table in front of the bookcage, his face expressionless.

Xander stared around, instantly alert, but Willow was nowhere to be found. When he looked at the table again, Oz had already gotten up and was halfway to the door.

"So you're just going to leave me here!" he yelled as loudly as he could, his fingers clawing at the mesh of the cage. "You can't - I'm not a monster!"

Oz paused and, without looking back, said, "You keep telling yourself that."

With that Xander's eyes widened as the library doors opened and closed and he sank to the floor, turning and huddling into himself as he fought the urge to cry.

Flinching at the sting coming from his face and hands, Xander stared at them, noting the scabbing forming over his knuckles before reaching up to touch his face and watching as his fingers came away red.

Within moments, memories assaulted him of the previous night, of fighting Oz because he and Willow were abandoning him. Willow was abandoning him.

Over _Dead_ - Xander immediately felt a growl rise up in his throat at the very thought of the vampire and fought his hardest to shove it down but, in the end, was forced to let it out.

The sound reverberated around the cell, followed by Xander's stifled sobs.

_...I want to make you as lonely as me so you can get addicted to this, now..._

Cordelia listened to Oz's, as usual, just this side of useless 'informational' call about where she could find her currently ex-boyfriend. That he _believed_ it was in their best interests to at least talk to one another.

Cordelia had considered ignoring him, but Oz had actually sounded...emotional, for once. It was weird, but Cordelia got the vibe that he - and Willow, probably, they were pretty much conjoined nowadays - really did feel it was important that she and Xander talk, not only for her sake, but for his.

Oz and Willow, she told herself, were the only reason she was setting foot back in this godforsaken library, where Oz had told her he'd left Xander.

Cordelia stopped in her tracks as she stared at the bookcage. He didn't say anything about Xander being locked up in here, or the left side of his face being a collection of bruises and scratches and the right having four long gouges down his cheek. Cordelia hurried over to the bookcage and stared in horror as Xander slowly, painfully sat up.

"So, I guess you came here to gloat, too, huh?" he asked morosely and right away Cordelia's horror evaporated into anger, "No, you jerk, I was coming to see what the hell happened to you! Oz, as usual, wasn't very specific, but he said you two got into a fight. Xander, what the hell would make you fight a werewolf? Are you _looking_ to get your ass handed to you?"

"They know where Buffy is, he and Willow," Xander snapped back, a faint growl coming back to his voice and Cordelia stepped back, her eyes wide and her face pale in anger.

"Do _not_ talk to me about Buffy, Xander. I don't want to hear it. Her mother kicked her out and she went to find her real dad and on pain of death that better not reach Giles, or you'll have me, Willow, and Oz _again_, up your ass."

Xander's heavily bruised mouth fell open, causing him to wince as one of the bruises split and more blood dripped down onto his shirt. "I can't believe you're on their side all of a sudden. You three - "

"Shut up, Xander," Cordelia ground out and Xander's mouth snapped shut. He had a feeling she'd look for a particularly tender spot and punch him in it. "All Oz and Willow care about right now is Buffy's happiness and, ours, apparently. They wanted me to talk to you despite the fact that you and I have made a sport of ignoring and mocking each other since kindergarten.

"They want you and I to work things out like they did, if it's possible. But the first thing you're going to have to do is get over little Ms. Slays Her Ass Off And Just Had to Kill Her Boyfriend because, I guarantee, she's not going to accept sloppy seconds anymore than I'll accept _being them_."

_...Said I don't care just what you think as long as it's about me..._

Xander was frozen now, staring as Cordelia continued talking, a strange falling sensation in his chest that made him feel sick to his stomach. Cordelia was glaring at him now

"Buffy's not here anymore, dorkface, and it looks like she's not coming back and you're going to have to give me one good reason why I should stay with you if this is how you'll end up all the time. Oz had to stop you from - whatever you were doing. Oz, who's two steps from being a Buddhist monk."

Cordy threw up her hands and then turned to glare at Xander as hard as she could, "Also, feel free to tack on 'hypocrite' in addition to 'dorkface'. Buffy's got Angel, Willow's got Oz. If I've got you, then there isn't a girl in our crazy-assed group that hasn't fallen for a supernatural guy. SO WHY ALL THE HIDING? I don't damned well appreciate it!"

"Okay, that's not fair!" Xander cried, banging the bars for emphasis, though he didn't mean to. "It's like the second Angel or Oz come around, you three are all over them - pheromones or some crap and suddenly - hey, it's two hot guys, all quiet and smoldering and - "

"EXACTLY MY POINT, DUMBASS!"

Cordelia turned away to toss her purse and bookbag onto the nearest table, one she didn't know Oz had vacated however long before. She turned back to see Xander's genuinely confused face and took a breath to try and calm herself down.

"Have you ever stopped to think that the appeal isn't Angel, himself, but his powers? And his attitude? His personality - same with Oz. Yeah, Angel's been dorky sometimes, but he never _dwells on it_. He lets it go. Again, the same for Oz. It's actually _three_ hot guys, but you're so insecure that you don't notice how much - "

Cordelia swiped angrily at the tears now trailing down her face and laughing softly at Xander's astonished face. "If you stopped obsessing over how cool you want to look, you'd've realized a long time ago - before you ever got interested in me - that Willow was totally jonesing for you, but no. You had your head up your ass just like you do now.

"Angel and Oz are more _cool-tempered_ than you, if you want to be specific. A million times more so. You, on the other hand, _never let anything go_. Gee, can't imagine why Buffy would prefer a guy who actually looked at her before himself. And Angel does. _Boy_, does he."

"Well - well, what about when Buffy drowned while fighting the Master, huh?" Xander objected, turning away from Cordelia and folding his arms, not realizing how immature that particular posture made him look. Cordelia rolled her eyes, but ignored it in order to listen to what he was saying. "Angel was just sitting there, _sulking_ - he didn't even try - "

"What could he have done? What did _you_ do before you got there? It was a prophecy, you jerk. And imagine if you were Angel and - and I was Buffy and you'd just heard it written down in stone that the person you loved more than anything in the world was going to die and there wasn't anything you could do about it?"

Xander turned around then, shock marring his face as he realized Cordy was crying. "Wouldn't you...wouldn't you be a little bit paralyzed with fear, too? Angel's not perfect, he never claimed to be. The last six months have told us just how much he's not - but he still tried to help Buffy before he lost his soul. And when he had, he was still 'Buffy, this, Buffy that'. He may have been an evil psychopath, but there was only one thing in the world he wanted and _damn_, did he go for her.

"God, Xander, if you turned truly evil tomorrow instead of just having this _spirit_ inside you, would you be saying that about any of us? When that thing first took over, I don't recall you giving a damn about Buffy or even Willow or any of your happy little family of freaks, here. You totally dropped them for your new _pack_ and just started picking off prey.

"Angelus - hell, even _Spike_ had a plan. You just wanted to kill. And then you lied to us about it. You've lived with it all this time and never bothered to tell us - does it talk to you like Buffy said Angelus talked to Angel? Do you ever give in to it like you did last night?"

_...I must confess, I'm in love with my own sins..._

Xander couldn't breathe, his eyes were full of tears again.

_Angelus talked to Angel in his head? Why would Buffy tell Cordy that? They're not friends..._

He whirled back around, gripping the bars desperately as he tried to say none of what Cordy was saying was true except for the part where he loved her. But he couldn't. And she kept talking.

Cordy perked up, then, her voice full of sarcasm, "Oh - and hey! Angel's not here, either! Did you ever stop to think what you were doing to Buffy, who you claim is your other _bestest friend in the whole world_?

"Yeah, Willow called me after she touched base with Buffy and got word that she was freaking alive. You took her heart and staked it, yourself. Well, you couldn't get Angel, yourself, I guess..."

Cordelia leaned right up close to the bars of the bookcage, where Xander was standing, tears streaming silently down his face, "Who's the bad guy now, Xander?"

Cordelia leaned backward, "Harm and the others keep asking me am I in or am I out? And you know, once I wouldn't have given you nerds the time of day. But then I found out there was more to all of you guys. Especially when Angel and Oz came along.

"And Buffy - she was totally popular once, at her old school, which I'm sure you know." Cordelia leaned forward again, surprising Xander by giving in to the urge to wipe his face through the bars as best she could.

When she was finished, Cordelia stepped back again, "But she gave it up. And she got you guys in return. And sometimes I think she misses her old life, but mostly because she got to be just as ignorant as everybody around us. But - and I repeat this - then she met you guys and you didn't just climb back into the same old Sunnydale river of denial."

Cordelia let out a tiny breath of laughter, "You guys actually asked for rope to climb out. Or I thought all of you did. But you, Xander. You say you're not a monster? Well, Angel accepted that there was a demon in him and that that demon even loved Buffy enough to want to end the world. Who knows what Oz's wolf feels for Willow?"

Cordelia looked at Xander with a saddened, lonely face, "But it's pretty damned obvious your hyena doesn't feel a damned thing for me. And the soldier? Whatever else you've got crammed in there now - none of it gives a damn about me.

"So why should I care enough about letting you out of that cage? Because you'd just be thankful to be free again or because you love me and can be near me again without barriers? Because it's pretty obvious that nearly dying isn't enough to make you remember that you care about me. Hell, you'll trick Willow into thinking she doesn't care about Oz. So, why? Why, Xander?"

He didn't answer, couldn't get his mind to pull words together to say she was wrong, and Cordelia sneered, "I didn't think you knew. You're all about what you want, Xander. Do me a favor and call me when you've grown the hell up."

With that, Cordelia turned around and stalked out of the library, like Oz, without another word.

_...Someday, I will walk away and say 'you disappoint me'..._

"He just - he's GONE!" Cameron burst out for the second time in as many hours.

Foreman had taken to wearing earbuds and Chase was ensconced in one of the many books House had left in his possession. He was no longer surprised to find the tiny **_'T.J.D.'_** written in the corners, though he'd at first wondered what the 'J' stood for, he'd dropped it, figuring everything else that had happened to him in the previous day and a half more than made up for privacy for House.

Movers had personally come to his apartment and moved all of his things from not only it, but the storage his larger possessions had been forced into and placed them carefully around what was apparently his new apartment at his instruction.

He was still rather lightheaded about that, to be honest, let alone the Corvette that now belonged to him.

Only that morning, House had called him and told him not to screw up. He'd only figured out what that meant when he looked at the caller ID and realized the call had come from Gotham.

He'd lain in bed for nearly an hour, the shock drifting over him like a cloud, before he finally managed to stumble into the shower. When he'd gotten to Cuddy's office this morning, the Dean had merely taken a look at him and laughed at a joke he didn't get.

"House is quitting for now," she'd affirmed, gesturing grandly toward Chase, himself. "You're on probation, according to him. Try not to let Foreman - just...make sure you check your car before getting into it."

"House gave me his - his Corvette," Chase had corrected absently, a little dizzy just then.

He didn't remember when he started vomiting, only that he came back to awareness with Cuddy rubbing his back as he leaned over her private toilet, his empty stomach turning itself further inside out as she rubbed his back.

She'd given him water and crackers and told him to take it easy for his first day. She wouldn't give him any cases for a while, let him make the adjustment - let Cameron and Foreman do the same.

"Just...just remember you're not a fellow anymore. You're an attending now and I expect you to behave like one."

They'd both laughed rather insanely at that very idea.

Once Chase had gotten his bearings again, he'd somehow managed to propel himself up to Hou - his new office. Someone had emptied everything of House's out of it. They'd left a very polite, if mildly joking note saying for him to mark his territory before it was too late.

On the desk had been a lockbox with keys. He'd opened it to find...a life...waiting for him. He didn't vomit again, but it had been a pretty close thing.

He'd just managed to finish rinsing his mouth in the conference room sink when the others arrived. As predicted, Foreman was hacked off and Cameron looked like Chase had done his earlier vomiting on a new dress she'd bought. _Oh, joy._

_...I'm coming apart at the seams, pitching myself for leads in other people's dreams..._

"DON'T YOU PEOPLE EVER SLEEP?" Elizabeth had yelled for the third time that morning alone.

Bruce humored her with a 'shy' smile, "Um, not when it's dark."

"How'd Dad go to school? That's still during the day, here, right? And Bart said something about him going to private school once. Day time!"

Tim cut in, snarking back, "How did _you_ go to school after patrolling all night?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Slayer stamina. Du - " she forced herself not to complete that sentence, much to her father's wicked amusement. "Slayer stamina, you person-who-is-a-jerk."

Tim sighed dramatically, "And here I thought I'd escaped that label..."

Bruce snorted into his coffee and Tim shot him a filthy look.

Tim decided to ignore Bruce for now. Turning to Buffy, he asked in a mock-innocent tone, "Any calls to or from your friends in Hell on Earth?"

Buffy's eyes widened, "AGAIN! SLEEP? EVER?"

"I love not being the youngest anymore," Tim gloated, reaching over and kissing Elizabeth on top of her head again.

"Whose fault is that?" Elizabeth bit out and Tim snorted, "Mine. Mi-i-i-ine!"

Bruce sighed and glanced at Selina, who had slipped in at some point and was now smirking terribly smugly at him. He ignored that and simply said, "I don't know who to chastise here, or to even be irritated at."

Selina refused to humor him even a little and Bruce turned to Buffy and tried not to sigh, "Elizabeth, would you kindly not bait your father? He already has a serious problem with not knowing how to act his age. Please don't make it worse."

Tim gave Bruce a murderous glare, "Says the guy who says Superman and Superwoman are _flying in_ and The Flash, Jr., _is taking a run over_ to see me! Like you can talk!"

Bruce gave in to the urge to sigh and conceded Tim's point. "You're right about that. My - I'm sorry. I took the subterfuge too far that day. Your friends were coming to the party, too, and that's all I should have said."

Tim froze, blinking. That was the second time Bruce had apologized to him. "You've really got to stop apologizing. I don't think my blood pressure could take it."

Elizabeth strongly resisted the urge to punch her father in the shoulder and merely said, "Hey! Slayer blood and healing, transferred right to you! Not to advertise myself as a snack or anything but why do you think vampires love it?

"It's not just yummy, they get this whole power boost from it that's better than sugar, magick...I may be about to quote a Red Hot Chili Peppers album title there, so I'll just say vampires want Slayer blood because it boosts their healing abilities, too.

"It's why Spike and Dru wanted to capture me so bad. So Dru could feed off me and then she could finally heal properly. Or whatever. Too bad for them."

Elizabeth sighed when she realized that now everyone was staring at her.

Tim scowled, "You realize that you are never leaving this house again, correct?"

Elizabeth resisted yet another urge, this time to roll her eyes, "Try and stop me. You may have some of my blood, but compared to me you're basically a Potential. I could kick your butt up and down that Cave and then have time for a quick scaling of Mount Everest."

"There's a vampire right down there who wanted you - "

"NO, ANGEL DIDN'T!" Elizabeth jumped up, stomping over to where her father sat and poking him in the chest again, this time ignoring his subsequent flinch.

"Not even Angelus did! He was nuttier than a Baby Ruth bar from having a soul for so long, yeah, but the record played the same: he loved me. I'm not defending any vampire's actions except Angel's and that's only because of his soul. When his soul is there, he's basically the same guy he was when he was human, only a hell of a lot more mature."

Elizabeth took a breath and thought for a moment, "You know what, actually, I'm going to defend his line, kind of - except for Darla and the Master - the first one, not Angel. Spike and Dru may have been evil, but the Judge wanted to kill them at first, just like he wanted to kill Angel. Because they love one another. That was too much humanity for Big Blue to take - er, the other, evil Big Blue.

"Anyway, I think...I think love is the one thing that sets Angel's line apart from every other vampire that's ever been sired. Because none of the others can. Now I get your worry, believe me, I do, but Angel's back now. Willow put his soul back and - and from where we currently stand, I'm guessing it's never going anywhere again since, hey, we might be married but it's not like we can be together that way ever again. So, either way, you guys get what you want!"

Elizabeth turned to run up to her room, but Tim gently gripped her shoulder and then ducked around her to stand in her way. He saw the tears on her face again and hated himself for sticking the knife back in her gut like the asshole he was now so used to being.

"We don't want - I don't want that and I'm sorry I said that. It's a little hard to get used to the idea that your daughter's supposed to just put her life on the line for people who don't even thank her, and yes, I realize that's hypocritical."

Tim exhaled. "We got off-track. I was merely trying to point out that your blood has done what no amount of therapy, drugs, or anything else I've tried could accomplish. I may not be whole, per se, but I'm not in pain and I have one hell of a daughter to thank for that.

"As for that other stuff..." Tim sighed, "It's time for you to stop feeling guilty over circumstances you had no control over. Yeah, you loved - love Angel. You did what a lot of teenagers are out there doing. I don't like it, but that's because I'm your dad. That's my job. If I did, there'd be something wrong with me. I guess I should be thankful you trust us enough to be this open and honest. You haven't been given much reason to."

Buffy sniffled, sagging and Tim wrapped his arms around her again, kissing the top of her head yet again and Elizabeth found herself chuckling against her will. "But like Bruce said when you got here. This is your home as much as it's mine."

Tim fought to hide the infinitely bothered expression on his face. "You've already been through hell. We'll be damned if we're going to add to that. You say there are vampires that can love, then who the hell am I not to believe you? You say Angel down there loves you even when he doesn't have a soul - who the hell am I not to believe you?

"I already know love makes anybody to really crazy things. Everyone in this room knows that. You know the difference between the good Angel and the psycho, snacking-on-people Angel, so we're just going to have to trust you. Not that hard since you're putting so much trust in us. I...I just want to make sure this _husband_ of yours, once he's sane and crap again, takes the care of you that you deserve."

Tim didn't bother to hide his glare this time as he said, "If he doesn't, vampire or not, I'll kick his ass. Simple."

_...Singing vows before we exchange smoke rings..._

"We're not up on this whole Slayer and vampire lore thing, so if you'd kindly fill us in, that'd be great. Obviously, we're missing something in this lovely corrupt home of ours. Or maybe not. Maybe we've just never noticed them."

Elizabeth shrugged, "Worked for the vast majority of Sunnydale..." She took a deep breath and let her dad direct her back to her seat, where she picked at the waffles Bernard had re-heated for her. "This is going to take some time."

"We've got nothing but," Bruce said, favoring her with a gentle smile.

"Yeah, I guess so. But can you guys do me a favor and stop listening in on my phone calls? And if I need to go slay, then I need to go slay. If I'm going to trust you, then you're going to have to trust me. I may not be wearing spandex, but if I'm a part of it and don't plan on leaving anyone who wants me around unless I'm forced to.

"As it is, since Barbara and Cass gave me a computer that I'm pretty sure Willow would sell her soul for, I'm hoping I can have the privilege of emailing her and Oz without you guys thinking...whatever you guys are thinking.

"Right now, we're just trying to find a way to get Angel okay again. Oz gave me some tips on keeping him occupied for now. He's starting to remember what happens when he transforms.

"Before you ask, I explained some stuff and he did say it was cool to tell you, he's a werewolf. Yeah, the full moon kind. He said it was important to get Angel back in the here and now and you guys have resources he and Willow don't right now.

"Willow's Jewish, but she's dabbling in witchcraft because it was really important and she was the only one who could figure out how to re-ensoul Angel and not make vengeance a part of the package. Nobody else had the knowledge or, if they did, they weren't interested.

"Right now, as far as Sunnydale goes, it seems to be me, Willow, and Oz - possibly Cordy, as weird as it is to say that. If you guys want to meet them, I guess that since Bruce bought the mansion Angel lived in with the statue in it, you guys can go. I..." Elizabeth sighed.

"We talked about it and they - Willow and Oz - both said they'd be cool with coming here, especially if WayneTech is still looking to make them interns or whatever. They understand I don't want to go back there. Oz can tell his aunt and uncle it's a summer thing and Willow...I guess she can say the same thing."

Buffy shrugged, refusing to go into Willow's home situation any more than Xander's. Elizabeth popped the last bite of waffle in her mouth and watched her dad, who was staring at her in slight awe. "You're Jewish."

Elizabeth scowled, "I am so close to impaling you with this fork. DID YOU HEAR ANYTHING ELSE I SAID?"

"Of course I did," Tim pointedly didn't yell back _or_ rolling his eyes. See, personal growth. "I just never knew your mom was Jewish."

"We didn't practice. Plus she's kind of absentminded. She never said a thing about all the crosses I have everywhere. I kind of found that weird, but if Mom has this family here she doesn't speak to, then I guess it makes some sense. My stepfather didn't have a religion, as far as I know, but we did have a Christmas tree and stuff. But one of the fun things Will introduced me to was Chinese food and movies on Christmas. Total fun."

"You've never been to _shul_," Tim said quietly, after listening to this bit of babbling that he was slowly getting used to and tilting his head a bit in awe.

"To what?" Elizabeth turned to him with a completely confused expression on her face.

Tim had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. "I met your mother when she was leaving _synagogue_ one night and she was attacked - I'm not sure what family her father was affiliated with, but I'm guessing it had some bad memories for her. Not that I can't totally understand, but she still should have told you at least something. There's denial and then there's denial."

"You're one to talk," Dick defended, his eyebrow raised in query. "And, anyway, what do you care? You gave up religion as a whole decades ago, along with Robin."

Tim frowned darkly, "Robin will always be a part of me, who I am - you know that. Secondly, I am not my daughter and she is not me. She is not her mother. She wasn't even given a choice."

"What religion were you?" Elizabeth asked, now really interested.

Tim sighed heavily, "Christian, but nothing in particular. Still, Christian. The point is that your mother - did Joyce tell you anything?"

"Well, yeah," Elizabeth acceded, not understanding any more than Dick why her father was so bothered. "She said her family had been religious once, but we didn't really go into it."

Elizabeth shrugged. "If it makes you happy, I asked Willow what the Hebrew form of my name was and she told me. You've been calling me 'Lisbet', are you going to call me _Elišéva_ now?"

"I was actually going to let you choose. That's not..." Tim sighed, "I'm not really sure what the point is. I guess it's that she was dishonest with you. I have a really big problem with that."

Elizabeth's eyes widened satirically, "I'd _noticed_!"

Tim forced himself to spare her a glare. "Don't do that," he said quietly and Elizabeth blinked before backpedaling, realizing she'd touched a nerve. "Sorry."

Tim glanced up at the ceiling and then exhaled, "It's okay. My baggage isn't your fault."

"What did you mean 'family'?" Elizabeth asked asked suddenly and Tim sighed.

"I'm pretty sure her father - uh, your biological grandfather was a soldier for the Marconi family. I'm also sure you'll hear plenty about them while you're here. Mobsters pretty much run all the major businesses in town. Even the banks, though some of them actually have something approaching scruples, from what I've heard. One of my favorite stories was from when the Joker first established his foothold.

"Guy got out a rifle and started shooting and talking about honor. A mobster talking about honor..."

Buffy snorted, "Sounds like the Master talking - um, Angel's Grandsire talking about the same thing. Though I'm guessing this guy wasn't so bad?"

Tim shrugged, "I have no idea. The Joker shot his kneecaps out and then poisoned him with an overdose of laughing gas. I'm pretty sure he went insane and probably starved or something."

Elizabeth's eyes widened and all she could do was blink. "You say that like this is so _normal_."

Tim frowned, "Says the girl who's had more death threats against her than the last three Presidents of the United States combined. I don't want to hear it."

Elizabeth spared her father her own eyeroll and then gestured to where she knew the Bat Cave lay in wait, "And let's not forget you were just shot the day before yesterday! Say, that wouldn't have anything to do with any of these Marconi people you've been talking about, would it?"

Tim blinked, "That...actually hadn't occurred to me. Wow, I'm an - " He cut himself off at everyone's looks.

Elizabeth started talking again after leaving off her own irritated expression, "So, all this talk has been fun but do we want to get the friends I do have left here or leave them in Sunnyhell?"

Bruce finally spoke up for the first time in what felt to him like hours. "We should speak to them first. And their parents and relatives, if at all possible."

Elizabeth felt her stomach sinking. _Oh, goody._

_...I know you've heard this all before, but we're just hell's neighbors..._

...TBC...


	11. Secret

**Identity Crisis**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** DC and Dark Horse Comics, respectively; Heel and Toe; Warner Bros.; Whedon, et al. own all but those unrecognized. Thursday. "Autumn Leaves Revisited." Island, 2006.

**Summary:** Xander almost did cry, then. This was why he was so upset now. Giles was always, always everything Tony never was.

**Notes:** In the case of this story, 'Band Candy' happened during season two.

**Timelines:** Batman: post-'Heart of Hush'; Buffy, (including the following comics) post-_Viva Las Buffy_, _Slayer, Interrupted_, and _A Stake to the Heart_; post-'Becoming, Part II';

General storyverse, post-Acquainted with the Night by **marag**, which is encompassed in its own wonderful universe where Gregory House was once our dear Timothy Drake...

House, M.D., 'No Reason' - AU after that.

Part X: Secret

Giles stormed into the library, tired of trying to pretend he wasn't fuming. Bruce Wayne! Bruce Bloody Wayne! Giles didn't care how filthy bloody rich the bastard was, the mere fact that he could buy up the mansion on Crawford Street without so much as entering Sunnydale - on a _whim_ - made Giles' blood boil.

Giles turned to enter his office when he noticed a figure huddled inside the bookcage, trying its damnedest to look as though it weren't there. It wasn't the full moon and, by now, Oz was quite comfortable with the routine they'd all set up to keep both himself and Sunnydale safe.

Giles placed his bag next to his office door and reached within to pull out a sword before turning slowly and as quietly as he could manage, inching his way slowly toward the bookcage before being stopped in his tracks, the sword clattering to the floor loudly and causing - Xander's huddled form to jump in fright despite his still trying to hide.

"Xander - what the devil - what are you doing in the..." Giles halted as Xander's hands and face, his torn clothing all came into view. His first thought was that Xander's father had made good on the threat Xander had told him about, but then Giles remembered that Xander told him the Hyena came out every time the bastard tried anything nowadays so that couldn't have been it.

"Xander, stand up," Giles spoke, hardening his tone a bit and, sure enough, Xander jumped to attention before he could stop himself. Inwardly Giles both glowed with satisfaction and cringed at the fact that he was correct in all of his assumptions. "Xander Harris, answer me," he said more quietly, inching closer, cringeing again as he took in the wounds the young man sported now. "What happened to you?"

Xander was about to tell Giles everything that had happened the night before. How Willow and Oz were walking to Willow's house, talking about Buffy being in _freaking Gotham City_, and Willow complaining about being his friend and how annoying he was - Xander getting angry and his temper taking over, all he saw was red and then he and Oz got into that fight and _Oz_, not Tony, had been the one to put his ass in a sling.

Oz watching him all night, he guessed - Cordelia talking to him this morning and threatening to kick his ass all over again if he said anything about where Buffy was to Giles...everyone walking away from him, walking out on him - everyone leaving.

But then Xander's hand came to his face again and found the large patches of scabbed over wounds and suddenly he couldn't say anything. Xander closed his mouth and looked at the floor, his hands fisted and fidgeting by his sides.

He wanted so badly to turn away from Giles so he wouldn't have to see the concern on his face. Giles was all he had left and they'd made it impossible for him to..._WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT? HOW COULD THEY LET - ?_ Xander shuddered as more tears came to his face, but he forced himself not to move. Not to speak.

Giles watched Xander's strange behavior and started to say something, but then paused to think. He had to take a different tack with this. Maybe then he'd get some answers.

"Xander, who did you get into that row with? Was it a fledgling?"

Xander snorted but just managed not to laugh in derision. Fledges hadn't given him much trouble in about a year now. Mostly the ones who were on the football team when they'd been alive - or the hockey team. But...Xander sighed inwardly.

He could say this much, couldn't he? It wasn't telling where Buffy was - God, he wanted to tell where Buffy was, but it was like the others had put a vise around his throat. Fucking Code of Silence. You'd think Giles was exempt!

"Oz," he muttered, hoping yet and still that Giles didn't hear. He was wrong.

"Excuse me, did you say _Oz? Daniel Osbourne?_" Giles' incredulity couldn't have been more apparent and Xander flinched, then flinched again as one of his scabs split and a thin trail of fresh blood slid over the larger ones all over his cheeks.

Without speaking again, Xander nodded.

"Why in God's name - never mind, let's get you bandaged and cleaned up. When's the last time you've eaten?"

Xander almost did cry, then. This was why he was so upset now. Giles was always, always everything Tony never was. Giles cared whether he lived or died and didn't merely see him as a servant boy or an obstacle to getting plowed. And now they were asking Xander to lie to him. Xander had thought he'd hated Deadboy but that - well, that was just on principle, but this?

And he hated that it was _Buffy, Willow, Cordy, and Oz_ who were making him feel this way. The worst part was that he couldn't even figure out what _this_ way _was_.

Giles didn't ask him to say anything up front. First, he walked Xander to the locker rooms and let him have a shower and got some gym shorts and a shirt for Xander to change into for the time being. Xander made sure to stop at his own locker and snatch a pair of his Speedos that he still kept there for surprise pantsings and other emergencies, as well as his sandals.

He tried to ignore just how red the water was as it flowed off his body and down the drain. Trying not to act as though he were surprised that Giles was still there when he came back out fully dressed, Xander followed him back to the library, thankful that it was a Saturday and Snyder wouldn't be here.

It wasn't until they were back in Giles' office and Giles had warmed up some tea for him and they were waiting for scones (because, of course, Giles didn't keep bread or a toaster in his very British office) that Giles sat back expectantly in his chair, obviously waiting for an explanation for what had happened.

Xander fiddled with the drawstring of his shorts until Giles cleared his throat and Xander's head popped back up to find Giles watching him still, his right eyebrow raised in that 'I'm waiting' way adults had.

Xander opened, his mouth, a small gust of air rushing out, but his voice wouldn't follow. He could feel his eyes burning again and Giles sighed, "Why did you fight with Oz, Xander?" he asked quietly, calmly.

Xander felt his chest tightening again and forced himself to take a sip of tea to steady himself, or at least to try. "Willow doesn't want to be my friend anymore, G-Man," he said quietly and, sure enough, Giles flinched at the nickname, but ignored it in favor of getting an actual answer.

"What do you mean?" Giles's brow furrowed in confusion, but Xander was shuddering so badly, tears he didn't seem to know were falling sliding down his bruised and battered face - he wasn't exaggerating in the least. This was how he saw it.

Xander laughed bitterly, "She called our friendship my _one-man show_ and she was my sidekick and she was tired of - " Xander sniffled suddenly, blinking in surprise as he hadn't realized he'd begun to cry again. But Giles' expression didn't change so he tried to will himself to ignore it.

"She was tired of everyone assuming things about her and thinking she went along with everything I do and say just because. And she said she should have known I'd lie about - " Xander faltered but Giles was staring hard at him now and, hey, he wasn't going to look a trusting horse in the mouth, damn it. "About the - well, he's actually a lieutenant. Whenever he takes control, I'm First Lieutenant Alexander Harris, United States Army. Army Ranger, actually."

Xander forced himself to finish his tea before talking again and then take a bite of his scone before wolfing it down, too. Then he began talking again. And Giles didn't yell or tell him to get to it. He just sat back and waited.

Finally, Xander started again, "And...but the Hyena was there first. That's what came out first because I was - I could hear them talking about - talking and it was making me angry. Willow's my best friend, she always has been. It wasn't until Buffy and Oz - or, hey, Cordelia _'Queen C'_ Chase, of all people - that I ever had to share her, really.

"Jesse wasn't...it wasn't the same. She called me _D'Artagnan_ and she said she was _Porthos_ and everyone always gave D'Artagnan the credit. She said she was tired of that. Tired of everyone seeing me first."

Giles sighed heavily, removing his glasses and rubbing his hand over his forehead and through his hair. "Well, considering she never intended for you to hear their conversation, Xander, you must take into account that she never intended to hurt you with those words. It's possible she hadn't even known she'd had those thoughts. Probable, actually.

"And it's actually a measure of how much she cares about you that she didn't throw them in your face when it was realized that you were listening to her conversation with Oz, which - " And here Giles peered at Xander with a 'you should good and well know better' look and continued, "You shouldn't have been listening to in the first place. I told all of you to go straight home, which you did not."

Xander opened his mouth, looking for a rebuttal, but couldn't find one so he shut it again and simply nodded.

Giles put his glasses back on and frowned, "There are consequences to one's actions, Xander," he said pointedly, and Xander flinched, having learned that lesson very early on in life.

Giles saw this and again changed tack. "When you involve yourself in situations you aren't meant to be in, it's entirely possible that you'll hear and, or - or see things you never wanted to, correct?"

Xander looked up at Giles, his eyes wide, but Giles' face remained calm and...gentle. Xander forced himself to nod.

Then Xander found words of his own bursting out before he could stop them, "Oz said I needed to break myself of my eavesdropping habit because it was getting me into a lot of trouble."

Xander gritted his teeth, unable to stop himself from growling again, "He said that while he was kicking the crap out of me."

Giles raised an eyebrow, but merely sighed, "Xander, did you start the fight or did Oz?"

Xander blinked, "I...I-I - he called me a coward, I - " Xander found himself becoming angry all over again. "He called me a _coward_, Giles!"

Without warning, Giles smacked Xander on the nose with a folded copy of that morning's newspaper. Xander's eyes widened and he started to jump out of his chair, but Giles stopped him with a finger in his face, maneuvering him back into the chair.

"Xander, Oz's point last night, which I'm reinforcing now: if you're going to act like a canine, then you'll be treated like one."

Xander's eyes widened, but Giles only continued to stare sternly at him.

"I haven't told the girls or anyone else that the Hyena spirit still dwells within you - I should imagine that the others who suffered your affliction are still struggling with the same impulses, urges. You have a chance not to suffer as they are undoubtedly doing so. Have you spoken to any of them? The rest of your _pack_?"

Giles emphasized the word 'pack' and Xander flinched, remembering that he had been the leader, then, just like Willow described. Xander hesitated, but then he shook his head no.

Giles nodded, "Then exactly what right do you have, placing blame on anyone becoming loath to involve themselves with your tendency to take over when you drop those you are involved with the moment an uncomfortable situation ends? I told you that you couldn't let this get the best of you.

"You ignore those who actually understand what you're going through, even though they need your help just as much as you need theirs. This spirit within you, it is not a submissive entity - it demands to be in charge of something. We've discussed this, Xander."

Xander frowned, but Giles got in his face and continued, "You've lacked control for the majority of your life - did you think that once you got it, once this entity, or even the lieutenant were given command over others, a chance to save instead of sit helplessly...that it would be relinquished without protest?"

Xander blinked, the heavy knot in his stomach getting all the harder as Giles continued speaking. Giles didn't seem to care that he didn't answer, it appeared he already knew it.

"I will not deny that I hate Angel with every fiber of my body, even though he is dead now. I will not deny that I feel nothing but murderous intent whenever I so much as think of him - but as I have told you, there is a reason you and I hate him as much as we do: fear of loss of control."

Xander scowled, wanting to turn away but unable to. "I still don't - I don't believe you, Giles. So you were the leader of your - so Ripper was in charge when you were in your juvenile hall days, so I was in charge when it was me, Kyle, Rhonda, Tor, and Heidi - so what? I - "

"Angelus was, each time, the leader, the Master, the head of his line, despite being younger than his Sire, despite having split off from the original Master. He wrote his own rules. We may hate one another, but it is because we have this in common - leadership, power over others, and a willingness to use it."

Giles refilled his own cup of tea now and leaned back in his chair, giving Xander the space everything in him was screaming he needed.

"I don't want to be like Angelus," Xander whispered desperately, gripping his own cup as Giles slowly leaned forward to refill it.

"No, you do not." Giles replaced the kettle on the table and favored Xander with a 'can you figure this out' expression that Xander usually hated but was too afraid to at the moment.

When he remained silent, Giles sighed and merely said, "You want to be _better_ than he is and by better, I mean you want to be the one they talk about in two hundred years even with a century of inacitivity."

"No, I don't," Xander snapped, but then forced himself to be quiet.

"It's true, Xander. You mentioned my hedonistic days as the worst that magick and power had to offer, but I was fooling myself just as Angelus did."

Xander blinked, confused. "What do you mean? Confused about what?"

Giles frowned, "I don't know about what, but he was _fooling himself_ about something - something only a soul could ever remind him of. Perhaps that is the reason he lost his mind, perhaps Buffy was only the tip of the iceberg, we will never know.

"But Angelus was never interested in the type of power that so many wish for, conquering worlds and bending others to their wills. He could bend lesser beings to his will with ease, that was never a problem. All he had to do was use his considerable skills at mental torture. The power he wished, sought was over himself."

Xander's eyes widened and he found he could only blink.

"How do you know?" Xander asked, glancing around the office as though the answer lay in the many shelves of books. "How do you know he didn't just want to destroy everyone and everything just for kicks?"

Giles sighed, "If Angelus wanted to end the world, he could have done so without ever telling anyone, giving us a chance to stop him, thwart his plans. He certainly wouldn't have bothered fixating on Buffy - but, well, that's just it, isn't it?"

Xander scowled now, taking a deep breath to attempt to ward off another growl. It worked for the most part and Giles gave him a slight smirk, which he ignored. "Giles, please do me a favor of mustering up a little more vague, because I don't think you had quite enough there."

Giles gingerly lifted the newspaper again and an unheeded whimper escaped Xander. Giles lay the newspaper back down, but gave Xander a look of warning.

"I've been doing rather a lot of research on the Statue of Acathla, as you know. There are certain sections missing from the text, but there was enough that I eventually managed to come to a conclusion: there are several objects within the world that allow an immortal being to end its life, even end both its own and the lives of everyone else such as that very statue. Another example would be the Hagun Shafts, which destroy the body of the otherwise-Immortal who wields it after he tires of life on whichever, I'm guessing _this_ plane.

"But the point is that Angelus was not simply out to torment Buffy. It is my belief that because he could not force himself to mirror the man she loved, in his warped mind, having watched Buffy with his souled persona for more than a year after who knows how long with no one, caring for nothing...that he wanted to kill himself.

"There are many, many years missing from the documentation of Angel's existence once he again attained his soul and even years when he was human. Nothing is known about his childhood, for example - but it is my guess that he never once experienced the feeling of love, unremitting in its intensity yet all-encompassing in its force of _feeling_.

"What would a demon such as Angelus know what to do with love, Xander, let alone that for the Slayer, who freely loves him in return? Look not to the Soldier, in its humanity, yet knowledge of life and feeling of loss. Look to the Hyena, who has yet to feel anything other than the wish to hunt, to feed. What would Angelus know?"

Xander was gripping the armrests of the chair he sat in, the refill of his tea having gone cold, as he stared at Giles in fear and horror, tears dripping onto his second scone and jam. "Giles. They - they're not human, it's not - "

Giles cut him off at the knees. "Is Oz? Are you? Kyle? Rhonda? Tor, and Heidi? What is human, Xander? What is love, or hate?"

Xander was hitching audibly now, struggling not to cry aloud as he gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut. "I...you're...I don't understand! You're human - the species! You have a soul, I have a soul - "

"Angel had a soul, I'm forced quite impartially to say," Giles said tonelessly and Xander shook his head violently.

"That didn't make him human! He still wanted blood - he still wanted Buffy's blood!"

Giles sighed. "Blood. Xander, you realize you have quite a lot of dried blood cells caked upon your face, forming a natural sort of Band-Aid upon the wounds in your flesh, helping them to heal? And yet your blood, human though it probably is in structure, is not normal. Kendra's was not, Buffy's...wherever she is...her blood is not normal.

"A vampire's blood looks exactly the same as a human being's...they were human once, after all. Millenia of research and we still do not know exactly what about blood makes a vampire that which they are, let alone why they crave it, use it for sustenance. But we have been shown firsthand that a soul is not connected to blood, nor vice-versa. And want does not always take or have. Even Angelus when he wanted, could not bring himself to take or have Buffy's blood."

Xander scowled, "Oh, so it was alright for him to snack on the rest of us - the town of Sunnydale is up for grabs so long as he doesn't - "

Giles once more smacked Xander on the nose with the newspaper, leaving him once more shocked and appalled, this time irritated, as well. "I don't believe I said I was finished, Xander."

Xander wanted to protest, but forced himself to be quiet. Still, he allowed himself to growl lightly, his fingers gripping into the armrests as he tried to control his anger.

Giles watched him, seemingly without concern. "You would like to rip out my throat."

Before Xander could stop it, a louder growl tore out of his throat and he clapped his hands over his mouth then, horrified.

Giles frowned in sympathy, reaching forward to stroke Xander's damp hair. "Buffy told me once that she long ago said to Angel that when he kissed her she wanted to die. Angel told me even longer before that that all he wanted to do was keep her from harm, help her, protect her. Even as Angelus, as you said, the rest of us were _up for grabs_, so to speak. Woe betide, however, the fool who lay a hand, claw, whatever...on his Slayer."

Xander stared at Giles in utter disbelief, "You sound like you're President of the Buffy/Angel fan club! What the hell, Giles!"

And here Giles actually rolled his eyes, "I'm merely stating facts, Xander. The whole point of this discussion is that just because someone is not human, does not mean they cannot love. And just because someone is...doesn't mean they can. Do you understand, Xander? You are not entitled to Willow's friendship.

"She obviously feels you have not earned it and, to be perfectly honest, given your behavior when it comes to both herself and Buffy, you have not. You merely feel yourself entitled to it, to their affection. Even Cordelia."

And here Giles' face truly hardened for the first time. "They deserve better and you know that perfectly well. As for their reasons for threatening you about telling me whatever started the fight...given your history, I would hazard a guess that their intent is to teach you that not everyone's secret is yours to tell. If it were you, remember, you would probably feel incredibly violated...if Buffy..."

Giles sighed and took off his glasses again to rub his brow. "Given what has happened, the impetus of those events, as well as their consequences, Buffy's reaction...if she has left - is, at least a natural one. If she has chosen to contact Willow, that would also make sense - Oz, a little less so, but still a choice easily seen, since Oz is Willow's boyfriend and neither of them have bad blood between one another...unlike yourself and Angel, which you made sure to advertise as often as you could, with great vigor.

"Cordelia might serve as a neutral party in this - her feelings for Angel may have been superficially romantic at first, as yours were with her, as well, but now she knows enough to keep her distance, and she far from stupid. She will not go blabbing every bit of information she hears to the first set of ears she sees anymore...she chose to be one of us and has acted the part, even when angry with you or the two of you engaged in your time-honored activity of publicly slighting one another for recreational purposes.

"In short, she is close enough to have a grasp of the situation and understand it for what it is, but distant enough not to feel that it personally effects her to the point that she feels no qualms airing our quote-unquote, dirty laundry, especially since that _does_ involve her, as well."

Xander shrank into the armchair he sat in again, tears coming back to his eyes again. "Cordy said I didn't love her - that I only ever think of myself. That Angel and Oz both put Buffy and Willow first at all times. She said I was so obsessed with comparing myself with them..."

"That you forget to see yourself, your own behavior, your own qualities and, as a result, those of they whom you claim to love."

Xander's eyes widened, "I do love her! I love Cordy! I - you're not even pissed off that Buffy would run away from _you_?"

Giles frowned again, this time sighing, "Xander, your second question first: Buffy and I each understand my loyalty is _expected_ to be to the Council first, my Slayer second. If she were not the slightest bit suspicious of my motives or my ability to keep my mouth shut, I - personally - would feel I failed as her Watcher.

"You need to remember that Buffy is an extremely unique Slayer under the weight of equally unique circumstances. As such, I am a Watcher of the same sort, if in different ways. I applaud her suspicion where my superiors would be disgusted by it because it means she can still think for herself and, that, I've now seen is one of a Slayer's most invaluable tools."

Xander looked as though he wanted to interrupt, so Giles cut straight to the point, "Her ability to attach and detach, whether willful or not, to others _has kept her alive_, Xander. What if the Council were sending assassins because they feel Buffy is not dealing with Angelus efficiently enough for their tastes? They have no use for a Slayer who feels, if you recall. What if the Council were to attempt to torture me to try to get information about where she is?"

Xander's eyes widened as that unforeseen incidence suddenly made complete sense to him.

Giles nodded as he saw that Xander understood him, "Am I alright with knowing my Slayer is out in the world on her own? No. It is not because I believe she cannot care for herself - the very idea is ludicrous. Buffy has street and world knowledge denied other slayers and they've all died.

"Does it upset me, personally, to know that Buffy does not trust me enough to tell me where she is, believing I will drag her back here? Honestly, yes, I am human just as she is. Watchers are trained mercilessly just as Slayers are to do as we are told, those who don't are generally sacked. Some even killed.

"I know she believes I will do whatever necessary to bring her back here simply because it is my _job_. The only thing I want, however, is her happiness, which - whatever our feelings on the subject of it - has died. It would kill me, as well, to have to look her in the eye every day knowing she doesn't care to live as a person any longer."

Giles' face hardened again, if now for a different reason.

"If the Slayer is all that's motivating her, then that is not a Buffy I would like to know. It may sounds selfish to you, but if I wanted to see Buffy back here again, it would have to be the Buffy I know, not the substitute she will have become without love to guide her. You four can only fill so much of the void and, knowing that Joyce Summers threw her daughter out - Buffy is _not_ a normal girl, whatever fantasies of such you've been entertaining.

"That is a chasm I cannot fill, you, Willow, Oz, Cordelia - none of you can fill it. It is the love of a parent. And Slayers and their counterpart foes, as you have been shown by now whether you care to remember or not, love or hate - in Angelus' case and those of _his_ deviated line, as if their very lives are connected to that feeling.

"Losing that love, hate - both, whatever it is directed toward, is such as losing a part of their own soul, or essence, as the case may be. Demons who mate do not go voluntarily into solitude. The same is obviously true for Slayers."

"Well, what about us, though?" Xander asked quietly, faintly, his voice saddened and dull. "Doesn't Buffy love us?"

Giles nodded, "Yes. You are missing my point. Angel..." Giles sighed. "Xander, do you feel the need to find a mate and connect with them?"

Xander froze, Cordelia instantly coming to mind without heed. Slowly, he nodded. "Cordy," he whispered now, nearly inaudibly.

Giles merely nodded.

"Were you able to tell her that when it mattered or were you too busy complaining about whatever was on your mind at the time?"

Xander shuddered and sniffled, taking the tissue Giles then offered and leaning around the back of the chair to blow his nose.

He turned back around, his tone now deadened, "I was too busy complaining."

He tossed the tissue at the wastebasket, not caring that it went in without a problem. "She called me a hypocrite. She said to call her when I'd grown the hell up."

Giles nodded. "The Council does not allow its secrets out - they will kill to protect them, but suffice it to say that as Joyce is Buffy's biological parent and, formerly, a confidante as such, if not for this part of her life until recently. Joyce rejected it, and her, quite violently, I can't imagine that had any effect on her but overwhelming pain and despair on the level of Joyce actually having died, as well. Angel was her mate, the other half of her _soul_ and vice versa, as Cordelia is yours and Willow is Oz's. If...if Buffy's pillock of a father is not her true parent, much would make sense...well, bloody hell, all the better.

"At any rate, that would explain her waning lack of feeling toward him, as well. If Buffy has gone to find whomever actually _is_ her father, if he is alive, then it will be to try to fill what is currently a gaping chasm within her soul."

Giles gave Xander a slow once-over, "One you have yet to fill yourself, young man. One you never knew you had until your spirits took up residence within you and forced you to realize things about yourself that you, otherwise, never would have.

"Tony Harris is not what they _or we_ feel is a true model of _any_ kind for you. Your mother is under his thumb. You are fixated upon Buffy's problems to distract yourself from your own. You have never recognized that but, I assure you, the Hyena and the Lieutenant will not allow you to faff about in that regard any longer. You are slowly coming to realize that Cordelia is your mate, your...mission, as it were, again in the case of the lieutenant.

"You were too busy complaining the last time Cordelia talked to you? Too busy playing your usual role to realize the one you were meant to play right before you?"

Giles steepled his fingers before his own face and finally leaned back into his chair.

Xander, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, closed them both, nodding as more tears escaped from underneath his eyelids.

Giles pursed his lips, sighing as he stood up, kissing the top of Xander's head, causing him to startle, but not to back away. Giles never made him feel...wounded or unprotected. Was this what Buffy was searching for, the parent he needed but had never had?

He looked upward and nodded, finally surrendering. Finally trusting.

"We have a lot of work to do, don't we, then, son?"

With that, Giles began collecting their dishes, pointedly ignoring the gobsmacked expression on Xander's face.

_Don't just give God a blank slate and let Him run with that! - Christopher Titus, Love is EVOL_

Joyce stumbled out of the bathroom, her eyes clinched shut, her hands feeling along the walls so as to avoid tripping, but she couldn't stand to look at anything.

Every time she opened her eyes, everything spun horribly and she ended up right back in her bathroom. She was lucky she could make it to her bed at all. This was the third day she'd called in to her assistant, sick. She was seriously considering making a doctor's appointment to check for some sort of stomach virus or something worse, which seemed likely.

She remembered when Buffy had gotten the flu the previous year and spent days in the ICU. That alone was enough to make her want to call _someone_.

If the...Joyce paused, frowning before slowly lowering herself back into her bed. She had to get used to saying it. She owed Buffy that much.

If the _Vampire Slayer_ could become so deathly ill, then it stood to reason that she should likely make an appointment at least for a check-up. It was bad enough that when she wasn't vomiting, all she wanted to eat now was vanilla pudding and sardines.

Ordinarily, she would have asked herself what the hell she was thinking, but when the craving struck, she became to ravenous to care. It didn't matter, though, as every morning, like clockwork, she stumbled into the bathroom and out came everything she'd eaten the previous night.

You'd think she was...

Joyce's eyes popped open.

Vanilla pudding and sardines.

Vomiting.

_Oh, my God._

She remembered when she had been barely seventeen and pregnant with Buffy those first few months. All she'd wanted..._oh, God._

Joyce stared at the opposite wall, wracking her brain, trying to figure out when this could have possibly happened. She covered her face with her hands, blocking everything else out and, almost as if someone or something had wanted her to know, instantly she recalled that time the high school had been selling those chocolate bars and most of the adults here had bought and eaten them.

She remembered Ripper, remembered strolling through town with him, enthralled by his tales of - well, she thought he'd been lying through his teeth to get up her skirt.

Not to say that it hadn't worked, nor that it wasn't true now that she knew what she did about...about everything, but..._oh, my_ GOD.

Joyce carefully rolled onto her back and wished Buffy was here, at least so she could hear her daughter's incredulous, mortified voice.

For all she knew, though, Buffy was dead. More than a week and not a word from her since she'd gone to fight her ex-boyfriend. Part of Joyce wanted to believe she'd won and everything was well but, if that were the case, then Buffy would be here at home, wouldn't she? Disgusted and horrified, maybe, but still - here at home. But she wasn't.

So why was Joyce seemingly getting another chance when she'd failed so miserably the first time? Was this another chance? Was this - oh, God.

She had to tell Rupert. She no longer had the luxury of being angry with him for being her daughter's _Watcher_ and hiding so much right in front of her. Not when he was going to be the father of one of her children, it seemed.

Joyce carefully reached up and took hold of one of her pillows, slowly bringing it down and hugging it to herself.

"Guess what, sweetheart: you're going to be a big sister," she whispered to no one in particular. Then everything blurred and she cried yet again. She'd long since lost count.

_...It won't be long, 'til you find your way home..._

...TBC...


	12. Caring

**Identity Crisis**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** DC and Dark Horse Comics, respectively; Heel and Toe; Warner Bros.; Whedon, et al. own all but those unrecognized. "Passive, Orestes, The Noose, The Outsider." EMI, Virgin, 2004.

**Summary:** "Shut up, Dad," Elizabeth said in a low, vicious tone that caught him up short. Tim's eyes widened further. This wasn't his daughter he was talking to so much as The Slayer.

**Notes:** I _just_ rewatched 'The Pack' and it was actually creepy as shit this time when I was paying such close attention to their behavior and other nuances. *winces*

**Notes, Part II:** If it weren't for **Adoxerella**, this part would have taken far longer to post. I thank God she found that part. I'm extremely partial to my work, it has been proven.

**Timelines:** Batman: post-_Heart of Hush_; Buffy, (including the following comics) post-_Viva Las Buffy_, _Slayer, Interrupted_, and _A Stake to the Heart_; post-'Becoming, Part II';

General storyverse, post-Acquainted with the Night by **marag**, which is encompassed in its own wonderful universe where Gregory House was once our dear Timothy Drake...

House, M.D., 'No Reason' - AU after that.

Part XI: Caring

_...Wake up and face me, don't play dead 'cause maybe someday I will walk away and say 'you disappoint me, maybe you're better this way...'_

It was Tor's words when Xander finally sought him out that hit Xander the hardest. "You have no idea how hard it is not to go looking for you every day when I finish breakfast, lead - "

Tor shivered and frowned, balling his fists as he struggled not to crawl up to Xander and brandish his neck in supplication.

Xander squirmed with some discomfort but, in the end, gave into his instincts as pack leader and knelt down, allowing himself to embrace Tor, giving long-sought approval. The happy whine Tor gave in response was almost more than Xander could take.

He forced out a breath and then lunged back into a standing position, leaving Tor cowering before him on the grass here in Weatherly Park where he'd come to find them all since they'd left their families so long ago.

Xander ran his hand over his hair as he took in Tor's haggard appearance. "Just promise...promise me you haven't been trying to eat any...people. Just...just animals, Tor - swear."

Tor gave off animalistic whimpers and the tears that came to his eyes that let Xander know that Giles had been right. This was his pack...and he'd flat out _abandoned_ them. What else could they do but be themselves?

_...Go ahead and play dead, I know that you can hear this..._

It wasn't as if he didn't know how difficult the urges were to ignore, the voices in his head telling him to pick off this or that classmate even now. Tor, Heidi, Kyle, and Rhonda...he'd left them all alone. How could he begin to judge them?

At least they'd done something comparatively decent and moved into the park where there was less temptation, less human prey on a constant basis. He couldn't blame them for taking anything - the things he'd done, still wanted to do...he had no right.

Xander forced himself to relax, breathing slowly and forcing himself to sit down. Tor began to back away, however, now beginning to growl, and Xander's head snapped up, the lieutenant asserting itself almost before he realized it, "Who the hell said you could take your sorry ass anywhere? Leader, superior officer, who gives a shit, get your ass back here."

His voice was low and dangerous and despite the fact that he didn't have a weapon - Giles had made sure to pound that into him, forcing him to learn hand-to-hand in favor of giving him a weapon of any kind less instantaneous loss of his human senses allow for someone to get hurt or, far more likely, killed - Tor froze and his mouth dropped open slightly before he almost bowled Xander over, whimpering madly this time, baring his neck once more.

"Fuck," Xander muttered, taking hold of Tor's head and forcing him backward. "Listen to me. SIT!"

Tor crashed to the ground and whimpered again, leaving Xander to almost turn away from him, swearing viciously.

_Shit, Giles was right!_ This was way harder than he imagined.

Xander breathed out once more before turning back around and then growled as he allowed the Hyena to come fully forth and descended onto his hands and feet. He nuzzled and sniffed at Tor, indicating the deeper parts of the park. _Show me where they are_.

Tor whimpered again, dashing forward into the darkness around them.

Xander carefully took note of the direction he was running in - east - and then began running after him, catching up with ease.

_...Maybe you're better this_ way...

Elizabeth stood anxiously, chewing her thumbnail as she watched her father inject the antidote to the etorphine into Angel's jugular vein before jerking to his feet with some trouble - Tim was still very unused to being able to use both his legs, let alone without the cane - and dashing backward, all the while hating himself for the feeling of burning his daughter at the stake, what with leaving her defenseless against a borderline rabid vampire who would be doing hell only knew what within moments.

Surely enough, Angel's head popped up, growling as he looked around the Cave once more. It was only a few seconds before he caught sight of Elizabeth and immediately was up and running toward her on all-fours before she stopped him with little trouble yet again.

He whimpered, then, and nuzzled at her, whining and trying to get closer to her. Notably, he didn't try to lunge past her again.

_He wants to be stopped,_ both Tim and Bruce realized and glanced at each other in agreement before turning back to the scene before them.

"Angel, stop it," she commanded quietly but with enough assurance that he halted completely and stared at her again before suddenly yawning widely and faltering, blinking as his body caught up with what was left of his mind and he tried to throw off the effects of the sedative.

Elizabeth knelt and wrapped her arms around him, following his eyes with her own when they were open, forcing Angel to see her. "Here I am, baby. I'm right here. You don't have to find me anywhere. Help me find you."

Angel growled lowly, a slur evident even then, and leaned into Buffy's shoulder, nuzzling her neck.

Gently but firmly, Elizabeth pushed Angel's face backward away from her neck, knowing perfectly well that if Angel bit her, husband or no, her dad was going to kill his poor, helpless ass. Any protestations on her part that he couldn't control himself were going to go in one ear and out the other. Dead Angel would be the result all the same.

"Angel. Come. Here." Elizabeth was going to repeat that as long and as often as she needed to and if it took weeks, well then her dad and Bruce were just going to have to get used to her camping out down here in the Cave. "Angel. Come. Here."

"You said he thought you were in danger before," Bruce said in a rather unexpectedly calm voice and Elizabeth placed her hand over Angel's mouth to keep him from going for her neck again as she looked back at her grandfather.

"Hmm?"

"'Hmm', she says," Tim sniped, his arms now folded as he leaned back against the console and glared at the scene before him. He reached into his pocket and fingered the plastic Batarang he now kept with him at all times while Angel was here, knocked out or not. "Like this is just - "

"Dad, shut up," Elizabeth cut him off curtly and Tim narrowed his eyes at her but said nothing else since he'd interrupted Bruce, himself.

Bruce sighed quietly, but continued, "Elizabeth, you told Angel that I wasn't anyone who hurt you, that none of us were, when he first fell in front of the statue and came after me. You believe he views any foreign party as a threat against you. He feels the same need to protect you that Tim does."

"The hell he does," Tim muttered, but fell silent again at Bruce's subsequent look of warning.

"And you, Timothy - " Tim flinched at Bruce's use of his full first name, his entire face putting effort into it as his left eye clenched shut and the right looked upward toward the ceiling of the Cave. "Told your daughter that Angel was lost and thought she was, as well. That he's looking for her and that his being a psychic only makes things more difficult because it gives him so many places both to look and to get lost himself."

Bruce frowned, "We need a way for Buffy to connect with Angel psychically. That would be the easiest way both for her to locate him and for her to draw him out. She is the only person he responds to and rather than wait months, possibly years for Angel to surface on his own - "

"You'll, what, shoot her up with Orpheus and toss her into a crazed vampire's head to pick her way through that briar patch of psychosis?"

"If you have any _helpful_ ideas, kindly share them," Elizabeth finally snapped, tired of Tim's possessive attitude when it came to her, despite her understanding of it, and wanting to get Angel back sooner rather than later. "Orpheus, what is it?"

Bruce answered in his now standard, she was coming to see, calm tone, "A psychogenic drug rather like lysergic acid diethylamide - "

Tim interrupted again before he could help himself, "We are not letting my daughter drop demonic acid that could kill her just to get her vampire boyfriend back!"

Before Tim knew it, Angel had knocked Elizabeth aside and was now headed straight for him.

Whipping out the Batarang before he could think, Tim flicked it open and sent it flying at Angel, who caught it in his left bicep, snarled loudly enough to echo through the Cave...and kept coming.

"Shit! Shitshitshit!" Tim turned and began running for the stairs when he heard a heavy tumbling noise and Elizabeth grunting.

Looking backward, he saw Elizabeth practically strangling Angel (or she would have been if he'd needed to breathe) as she hauled him back to the wall and shoved him against it, forgoing any consequences and kissing him hard even as she ripped the Batarang back out of his arm and then pressed her hand to the wound to staunch gravity pulling his blood out of his body.

Tim felt his mouth drop open and his legs go weak once more, this time in horror, as she watched Elizabeth use her body to manhandle Angel back to the wall before - _Oh. Well, hell. Fuck._ - suddenly there was the clipping of brand-new, reinforced, padded, silk-lined manacles as they went around Angel's wrists.

"You'd - "

"Shut up, Dad," Elizabeth said in a low, vicious tone that caught him up short. Tim's eyes widened further. This wasn't his daughter he was talking to so much as The Slayer.

_Oh, God._

"Rule number one around unstable anything - no sudden moves. With all the stories you've been telling me about Arkham inhabitants, I should think that rule would be second nature to you now, but I guess I see now what Uncle Dick's talking about.

"You've completely lost any and all sense of where you came from or of danger living in Princeton. I have to say I agree, because just now? YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN YOURSELF KILLED BECAUSE YOU JUST HAVE TO MAKE A FUCKING POINT THAT DOESN'T NEED TO BE MADE!"

Behind her Angel whimpered and Elizabeth looked backward, presumably to reassure him in some fashion before turning dead serious eyes back on Tim.

"You are my father, we've established that, but this isn't your world, Dad. You already have to reacclimate to Gotham and I understand that but, until you do, let me handle the supernatural before you get yourself killed good and _dead_.

"I understand that you have this whole thing where I'm your shiny new little girl, except we both know I'm not a little girl so letting yourself get into that mindset won't help anyone. It also won't help anyone if, by the time he's sane again, my husband has ripped apart his own father-in-law. _So_: do yourself and the rest of us a favor and cut the wisecracking. Cut the lack of helping us get anywhere.

"_Right now?_ I don't want to hear anything that isn't solution-oriented. If you're not interested in helping Angel, then you're not interested in helping me because we're a packaged deal, Dad, and I want him back whole and healthy. You and I are, too, but so are Angel and I.

"If you don't get used to sharing me, then you and I won't have much to talk about for very long and I'd hate that almost more than either of you dying. I'm not saying this to be manipulative, Dad. When Mom threw me out, it was like a whole chunk of my soul was gone. Don't _do_ that to me again!"

Tim watched, wide-eyed, as Elizabeth breathed deeply, trying to calm down, and found himself blinking, actually speechless. "Are you going to help us? If you're not, then I would suggest you don't come down here and you and I just see each other at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. If you're on our team, then _please_ come up with something constructive before I'm forced to punch you for your unnecessary asshattery."

With that, Elizabeth turned back and stomped over to a now cowering Angel, stopping to breathe deeply before kneeling down to stroke his hair again and attempt to reassure him as best as she could. Tim refused to look at Bruce, feeling the 'I told you so' from all the way down the half-set of stairs he'd managed to climb in his haste.

Tim clenched his eyes shut, trying to think back to when he'd been in Buffy's position regarding choosing Bruce and his home over persuing Black Mask after Stephanie's death. Instantly, all the old anger and resentment flooded his body, showing him Buffy's point from his own so long ago.

_God, I'm putting her through...what I went through...I...idiot...fucking asshole..._

Shoulders slumping, Tim ran his hand over his mouth, shuddering. Was he...jealous? Because Buffy got back what she'd lost and he never would? What kind of petty son of a bitch was he? Reaching up and rubbing his hands together as though to warm them, Tim then rubbed the back of his neck.

"When did you become so fidgety?" Bruce asked quietly, his voice echoing up from the depths and Tim winced.

"When I lost my ability to expunge my excess energy in the form of kicking goon and baddie ass. When I lost the use of my leg. I...fidget a lot now." Tim glanced over his own shoulder for no reason before throwing out a hand and merely saying now, "J'onn J'onzz."

"Who," Elizabeth asked cluelessly, but she watched as Bruce's face lit up before he turned to her, a strangely bright yet cunning expression on his face.

"I believe your father might be ready to help us now, Elizabeth."

The glowing smile that came to her face as a result was all the further persuasion that Tim needed.

_Help me if you can - adjust to this, it's not the way I'm wired, so could you please help me understand why..._

Joyce was sorely tempted to roll her eyes. Certainly, there had been an expected amount of shock - well, obviously - but this was ridiculous. Rupert had stared at her, his mouth agape, before commencing cleaning his glasses for the next five minutes straight.

She was thisclose to kicking him in the shins. Alright, so her temper had been reduced to hair-trigger over the previous week. She knew she'd get over it eventually. But right now? NOT the time to sit there twiddling like a moron.

"RUPERT! Did you hear a word I said?"

Which was when he started gibbering. _God_, Joyce thought, giving up and slowly getting to her feet to return to her room. "Never mind. Let yourself out."

"Joyce, I - " Rupert finally managed to say something and Joyce eased herself the few inches she'd risen back into the chair. "Yes?"

"Well, I - this is certainly a shock, but...well, it's completely...understandable. I..." Giles resisted the urge to remove his glasses again and simply took a deep breath. "I wasn't one for..."

"Protection?" Joyce asked blithely and Giles face lit up like a fire hydrant. Biting her lip, Joyce decided he wasn't a prick and reached out to pat his hand.

"Don't worry, you're not the only idiot in this room. In the interest of full disclosure, the reason Buffy even exists is because this is not my first time doing this."

Giles blinked, struggling to keep his mouth shut again, and Joyce chuckled. "Oh yeah, repeat offender here. Her...Hank wasn't her biological father. There, I'm being honest with you, since apparently you're not running screaming calling me a lying anything. She was born when I was seventeen - so, really, it was a little hypocritical to be so - well, they say the things you can't stand in others are what you've done yourself. I just didn't want to - oh, God, not that I think Buffy was a mistake. Anything but - God, she was a gift..."

Joyce clenched her eyes shut, once again feeling hot tears begin to course their way down her face before suddenly feeling the slightly rough pattern of an Oxford button-down collar, as well as the softer feel of a sweater vest.

Suddenly wanting to laugh, she did so. "You changed so much!" Over her head, she heard a snort and giggled again.

Breathing deeply, Joyce clutched at Rupert's arm and sighed. "Buffy's biological father, I...we met when he was - well, we had both just turned seventeen. Like mother, like daughter, I know. Though Buffy actually knew Angel for a year before...well, let's just say she was more patient than I've ever been. Or something like that, I'm not sure. I...he disappeared a few days later. I think he was killed."

Joyce felt Rupert's arms freeze around her for but a moment before relaxing. She sat up slowly, looking him critically in the eye.

"Rupert, tell me you don't think Buffy's dead. Tell me...oh, God, you think she's gone to find Tim - uh, that was his name, sorry, Timothy Drake - and meet him if he's still alive?"

Giles sighed, pinching his nose slightly. "Joyce, you have to understand...what you did when you threw Buffy out - it's a completely normal reaction as far as humans like ourselves are concerned - "

"Humans? What, are you saying Buffy's not human?"

Giles shushed her then, breathing deeply and obviously asking her to do the same. For hope of not losing her mind, Joyce did so, both for her own sake and the baby's.

"Slayers are not completely human, no. It is merely their makeup - I don't want to infer that they are built, by that idea, all human beings are built..." Giles glanced with some nervousness down at her midsection before blushing again forcing himself to regain his focus. "But the reason Slayers are able to do what they do, heal as they do, engage in acts that would kill a normal human being...they are not entirely human, no. They are, by virtue of their creation millenia ago, part-demon - "

Rupert gently shushed what he knew would be her next question. "Yes, Slayers were made to fight demons, find them, destroy them...but the only way that could be accomplished was for the girl chosen to take on the essence of demonic _being_.

"It doesn't make her anything less than we knew her to be. The fact that Buffy wasn't realized to be a Potential Slayer until after she was Called meant that you raised her, she was given the humanity and personality that every Slayer before her lacked. That disconnect killed them.  
"You kept your daughter alive by hiding her from...from those who would have trained her in nothing but her calling, never allowing her to be a person, merely a weapon. I have yet to meet a Slayer who has lasted longer than two years with that background. Simply put, they have nothing to fight _for_."

Giles sighed, rubbing Joyce's back even as he felt hot tears leaking into his vest and shirt. He had to continue, nonetheless.

"It's rather like being consigned to a military in another country. What the bloody hell would you care for their cause? Oh, yes, you'd be indoctrinated, you'd know what they'd want you to do...but you wouldn't care. More simply put..."

Rupert sighed again and gazed at Joyce in a way she hadn't been in decades...the way she suddenly recalled Tim used to look at her once, after he'd found out about her father and how she'd longed to get away from him. Joyce bit her lip.

"Simply put," Rupert repeated, "You taught her how to be a human being and how to love. I...I can't thank you enough for that. I've had two years now to see all the errors the Watcher's Council makes in their handling of human beings given demonic essence. It started when Buffy met Xander, Willow, and their friend Jesse.

"It has continued. Slayers have been lone creatures, but how many times have I watched these three - and Cordelia - Daniel, that's Willow's boyfriend, he is addressed by 'Oz' - most importantly, Angel, before he lost his soul...pull her back from death's door? I fear she would not have lasted at all had it not been for any of you, nor whomever helped her when she was in Los Angeles. You feel you have failed her."

Joyce was gritting her teeth, trying in vain to keep the tears at bay yet again, but eventually gave in, "I threw her out, Rupert! I found out she...was the _Vampire Slayer_ and it was...Gotham all over again. So many secrets, so many lies. I couldn't...handle it. But I...I had no right. I had no right."

Giles was confused now, not to mention slightly angered at the memory of the locks on the mansion, "What does Gotham City have to do with any of this?"

Joyce breathed out through her mouth, "Rupert, have you ever heard of Batman or Superman or Nightwing or Robin or..."

At Rupert's utterly blank stare, she laughed.

"Well, that answers that. Funny, you know all this demon-type stuff, though. Ask anyone - they don't officially exist, but ask anyone. Anyway, the point is that none of this was a new concept to me, secret identities. I always wondered who they were under those masks and capes. What lives they led during the day...they had to be normal people some of the time, right?"

Joyce trailed her finger along the kitchen table beside them. "Anyway, the point is that none of this was a new concept to me, secret identities. I guess I just couldn't handle the idea that it was my daughter putting herself in that harm and I..."

Joyce bit her lip. "God, I wish I could call her father. I don't even - you've said that it's likely Buffy's left town - again, just like I did. I can only think of two places she'd go besides here and since Hank is ignoring us, that leaves Gotham. But if Tim's dead, then she...she has nothing to go to."

Joyce shuddered now, a new cascade of tears falling down and found herself wrapped in Rupert's arm again. God, if she didn't stop laughing and crying like this, he would think she needed to be in Arkham if he'd known about it.

"I told her never to come back, Rupert," she cried, clinging to him like a life raft. "What do I need another child for? Because I did such a stellar - "

Rupert backed up, glaring critically at her. "Did you not hear a thing I said, Joyce Summers? You are human. We make mistakes. Just trust in the fact that Buffy can take care of herself and you're no small part of that. I have no doubt that, if your own theory is correct, she is in Gotham."

Giles hugged Joyce again now, "But you have to remember, just as you didn't want to go back there to live with the demons around you, Buffy has those same feelings about this place we currently call home. Perhaps her biological father is dead, perhaps he is not. That almost isn't the point.

"We still don't know everything about Slayers, but I must tell you - and this will hurt, so I'm preparing you - you opened a hole in your daughter's soul that can only be filled by a parent's love. You were rash and misunderstanding. You leapt without looking."

Giles could feel his shoulder getting wetter and wetter but forced himself to finish because, if he didn't get this out now, he never would. "But that's part of life." He gently moved her backward so they shared each other's field of vision.

"We both did - we leapt. That doesn't end when we stop being Buffy or Xander's age. Not much does."

Joyce was confused now. "What does Xander have to do with this?"

Giles sighed, "Well, his homelife is severely lacking in...anything approaching a home. He's eighteen, already, so he's a legal adult. I want to ask him to live with me and hopefully I can at least undo some of the damage those damnable cretins heaped upon him. But that also means...if it would be alright with you, that I would have to tell him about...all of this, regarding you and I and..."

Giles blushed again, but managed to get out. "Whomever's in there."

Joyce blinked, almost laughing again. "Wouldn't that make...Xander my stepson?"

Giles laughed nervously again, this time giving into the urge to remove his glasses and running his free hand through his hair. "Er, yes, yes, I suppose so."

Joyce bit her tongue before she pointed out, "He has a crush on Buffy."

Giles perked up, "Ah, er, no - actually, we've discussed that and he's come to realize some things. She was a distraction. He truly knows whom he cares for in that regard now. We're working on him actually acting on that feeling instead of pushing her away as he usually does."

"Cordelia," Joyce said knowingly and Giles smiled and nodded.

"Er, yes. I'll ask you not to share that, though. We quite have our hands full with the children as it is. I'm trying to teach him impulse control. As it is..."

Giles' hands inched toward Joyce's belly for but a moment before he snatched them back and Joyce bit her lip at his bashfulness.

"I believe there's a rule about this - he who contributed half the DNA gets to touch the belly. Though it's thoughtful that you more or less waited for permission. I guess it's those British manners. I'm not looking forward to work or...anywhere else, really. People here think a pregnant woman's belly is a free-for-all."

Joyce subsequently laughed at the affronted expression on Rupert's face. "So, now that we have that taken care of, we should at least tell 'the children', as you call them. And figure...the rest of...us out, since from the look on your face, I can tell you're not going anywhere."

Joyce smiled gratefully as Giles nodded as though even more affronted at the very idea and then stood. "What would you like to eat?" Joyce smothered a laugh and then a hiccup before wincing. "You're probably - no, definitely going to hate this..."

_...You're better off this way..._

**...TBC...**


End file.
